This World We Built
by ProperStoppingDistance
Summary: Max chooses Chloe, and the two must come to terms with that decision. Meanwhile, sinister forces move to protect themselves.
1. No Place Like Home

A shaking, unsteady hand reached for the keys to turn off the truck's ignition. Chloe Price, a weathered, tired, shocked, and bleary-eyed wreck of a person, brought silence to the cabin for the first time since the flight from Arcadia Bay. To her right, Maxine Caulfield lay strewn unconsciously against the passenger door, her legs curled up uncomfortably onto the seat. Almost immediately after their entry onto the main thoroughfare Max closed her eyes and hadn't opened them since. Not that Chloe minded. After everything, a bit of silence was fine with her. Even if that silence grew into a six hour stretch.

Chloe returned both her hands to the steering wheel and leaned her body against it while keeping her eyes focused on Max. Questions, both practical and existential, had tumbled incessantly through her mind during their retreat to Seattle. Had anyone made survived? Were both her parents now dead? Why on _earth_ did Max chose her, over everyone else? More so than all others that final question weighed heavy. Could Max ever truly recover from what she did? When she wakes up, what sort of person will be there? Will she still be the earnest, loving, and faithful friend with whom Chloe had reconnected over the past week? Or would she be a broken husk, unable to grapple with her final fate-defying decision.

And what about herself? Chloe knew that from here on out, she would dedicate herself to being worthy of Max's heartfelt confession on at the lighthouse. Over and over her words repeated in Chloe's mind: "you are my number one priority."

 _No pressure_ , Chloe thought. _I was really ready for it, too. It was the right thing to do-I still can't believe she tore that photo. Our final ticket to making things right; to saving all those people. To-to saving Mom. She threw it away without a second thought. And now? How the fuck am I supposed to return that favor? I shouldn't even be alive..._

With a sigh Chloe reached out and gave Max's shoulder a soft squeeze. "Yo, Max. We're here. Come on, I'll bet your parents are going apeshit with worry right now." But Max remained comatose, Chloe's words falling deaf on her slumbering partner. After a few more failed efforts Chloe decided to call in reinforcements.

Chloe sucked in the cool Saturday morning air into her lungs as she exited her vehicle, which was parked against the curb in a quiet yet welcoming Capitol Hill neighborhood. A quick glance at her phone informed her that it was around 4:00 AM. Across the street was, according to quick directions Max provided prior to passing out, the Caulfield residence. Like most of the surrounding homes Max's house was a small but comfortable looking single story dwelling. A well kept lawn and a few trees adorned the lot, giving it an impression of peaceful and practical solitude.

 _Here goes nothing. I bet they won't even recognize me. And I really hope this is the right place-otherwise there's going to be one pissed the fuck off stranger. It should be illegal to be awake at this ungodly hour._

Gulping down her remaining hesitation, Chloe rapped her knuckles against the front door and nervously waited for a response. Within moments she heard rapid shuffling and the clicks of a lock being released. The door promptly opened to reveal a face she hadn't seen in five years: Ryan Caulfield. For a strange and confusing moment, their eyes met. It was clear Ryan did not recognize the young woman on his doorstep, and that he was expecting someone else. _Police, probably._

"Honey, who is it?" Chloe heard Vanessa ask from out of sight. The worry and fear in her voice was palpable. _Well, at least something good is going to come out of this._ Granted, they really should have called when they started getting reception again. But Max was out cold by then, and Chloe didn't have the Caulfield's home phone, nor did she know Max's swipe password. So incommunicado it was. Chloe didn't even bother to turn on the radio for the whole trip. She figured that, for once, perhaps she needed some silence to contemplate and try to come to terms with Max's choice. And so, Chloe found herself at a complete loss for words. Nervously, she grabbed the beanie off her head and clutched it in front of her with both hands.

"Oh my god," she heard Ryan utter under his breath. "Chloe? Chloe Price? Is that you?"

"H-hi, Mr. Caulfield. Y-yeah," Chloe managed with weak smile. "Can-can I get your help? Max is passed out cold in my truck, I-I can't wake her up."

A flurry of emotions permeated Ryan's face as his brain fully registered what Chloe had said. _Right. I suppose I could've started with, "Your daughter is alive." Idiot._

Without another word Ryan blasted past Chloe, who remained standing awkwardly on the porch. From inside the house she caught sight of Vanessa. Her tired face betrayed the tell-tale sign of sleep deprivation and recent tears. _Guess I'm not the only one that stayed up all night._ Chloe turned to watch Ryan open the passenger side door and effortlessly swoop his daughter into his arms, rushing back to the house after kicking the truck's door closed. To her surprise, Chloe felt a small pang of jealousy. _I wish I could do that for her_... _She looks so small, so frail. A far cry from the fucking time warrior of last week._

Vanessa let out a muted scream as Ryan passed the threshold into their house, closing the distance between them in seconds. Another awkward moment passed as the Caulfields squished a _still_ sleeping Max into a bear hug. Despite all the shit and horror of the past week, Chloe took a soft, pained satisfaction at being responsible for reuniting at least _one_ family. After what seemed a small eternity, Vanessa remembered the stranger standing fretfully at their doorstep.

"Please, come in, you must be a friend of… oh my _god_. _Chloe?_ "

"Guilty, as charged," Chloe admitted with a shaky laugh. With a sigh of relief Chloe entered the Caulfield residence and shut the door behind her. Immediately she found herself in Vanessa's embrace, hearing muttered "thank yous" repeated again and again. Ryan brushed past them, going to the living room to lay Max down on the couch, never taking his eyes of his daughter's face.

"I… I suppose you'll want to know what happened," Chloe reasoned as she followed Ryan. The sight of Max at peace, asleep on the couch, gave Chloe cause to form a small smile. Without another word she plopped down in one of the sofa chairs. Ryan sat in the chair facing opposite while Vanessa sat beside Max, her hands gently stroking her daughter's face and hair.

"Have you been driving all night?" Was the first thing Ryan asked. "God. Of course you were. That's the only way you could've made here by this hour."

"Y-yeah," Chloe confirmed. "Sorry we didn't call or anything. Max was already zonked out by the time we got cell reception, and I didn't have your number. So I just drove."

Vanessa caught Chloe's eyes. "Enough of that, Chloe. You brought our child back to us. That's all that matters." Vanessa ended her sentence with a choked sob, returning her focus back to Max. "She's right," Ryan agreed. "We can get the full details later. Right now you must be exhausted. That's a helluva drive to do in one shot."

"Heh, yeah," Chloe said with a nervous laugh. "I guess I was just cruising off all that adrenaline. To be honest, it was all just kind of a blur."

Ryan rose from his chair, gesturing for Chloe to do the same. "Follow me. We have a guest bedroom you can get some sleep in. Don't worry about Max, we'll get her to bed in a moment."

The thought of a warm, soft bed, and being able to close her eyes, suddenly seemed an irresistible prospect. Giving no further argument Chloe followed Ryan out of the living room and down a narrow hallway. Towards the end Ryan gestured into a sparsely decorated room that contained a bed which sang to Chloe like a siren to a weary sailor. She managed to get her boots off, but seconds later her head hit the pillow and her body's desire for sleep overpowered all else.

* * *

 _Warmth_ , was Chloe's first conscious thought. Moments later, when she opened her eyes, she realized why. Max was lying on the bed next to her, gazing with an expression of mixed fear and wonder. Neither girl said anything for a minute, each unsure of how to even start the conversation they both knew needed to happen.

Max relented, closing her eyes and shifting closer to Chloe. "You're alive," was all she said.

Chloe placed a hand on Max's shoulder and opened her mouth to make words, but none would come out. How to even begin? A "thank you" for sacrificing a town's worth of people for her worthless hide? Reprimand her for being so selfish?

 _You are my number one priority,_ Max's words echoed in Chloe's mind.

Chloe had to choke down a sob. Realizing she was _way_ too emotional to give a honest, or even witty, reply, she turned to lie on her back and focused on the ceiling.

"Chloe," she heard from her side. "Don't you dare clam up on me." Chloe felt Max interleave her fingers in her hand, forming a locked and tight embrace. "I can't do this alone," she whispered.

 _Come on, Chloe. Man the fuck up._ Pulling in a deep breath of air, she finally found the words to reply. And was immediately cut short by Vanessa bursting into the room, worry plastered over her face. "Max!?" she cried. Her expression immediately softened upon finding Max safe and sound in bed next to Chloe. Propping herself up, Max gave her mother a smile and crossed the distance between them for a proper hug.

Chloe watched as Vanessa swept Max up, clinging to her with the desperation of a parent that thought their child lost. Kissing Max's head, Vanessa pulled them apart and asked if Max was hungry. Seeing as neither of them had eaten since the day before, the answer was a resounding "yes" from both girls. Vanessa parted and shut the door softly, giving the girls the room again.

Max stood stoically for a moment before turning to face Chloe, who was still lying on the bed. Max's expression transformed to pained worry, of self doubt. Of guilt, of the terror that only she and Chloe would ever truly know why all those people died. Suddenly Chloe understood: Max would never be able to repent for what she did. It would be her burden, for the rest of her life. There would be no opportunity for forgiveness. For absolution.

Chloe leapt from bed and wrapped Max into a tight hug. Max stiffened, but quickly fell into the embrace, allowing soft sobs to overtake her. For the first time since ditching the Bay, Chloe spoke to Max.

"M-Max. Listen… I don't know what happens next. I don't know if you did the right thing, or if doing what I asked back at the lighthouse would've fixed anything. But… we need to stay focused on the present, now, yeah? What's done is done. I wish I could take it all away. You of all people do _not_ deserve this shit. So blame me, okay? I'm the one that pressured you into using your powers. That you had to save in the first place. That guilted you into this."

Max uttered a small gasp and pushed Chloe back so they could make eye contact. "Is that what you think? That you _guilted_ me into saving you? That's fucking bullshit, Chloe. And you know it. You _know_ why I tore up that photo. I already said it. And…" Max stopped to stifle another sob. "How could I live with myself, had I gone back? Letting you die, alone, and broken? Thinking no one loved you?" Max pressed her face back into Chloe's chest before continuing. "No matter what, there was no happy ending, Chloe. All I could do is pick the one I could live with."

"Can you, though?" Chloe whispered. "Live with this?"

"Only one way to find out, Chloe."

* * *

Breakfast for dinner was the first order of business after Max and Chloe left the guest room. Outside the sun had mostly set, both girls having slept away most of the day. Max chalked her exhaustion up to over-use of her powers. And Chloe had been completely wiped out from the six hour drive up to Seattle.

Max took in the wonderful smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon-bit waffles, a staple of her father's. Vanessa and Ryan both sat and stared at the girls as they wolfed down their food, as if their presence could be only the result of a small miracle. When both plates had been licked clean Ryan collected the dishes and Vanessa leaned forward with an odd look. It was obvious she wanted to ask that question so simple, yet for obvious reasons, so difficult: _what happened?_

Max decided to jump in and control the conversation. _Best to do this on_ our _terms,_ she thought. "I guess you're probably wondering how we're here?"

Wordlessly Vanessa nodded as Ryan joined them again at the table, seating himself with a serious and intent expression.

"We were up at the lighthouse when the storm hit. It was far enough away. So we just… we stood there. And watched."

A sullen silence descended over the table. Ryan and Vanessa exchanged looks, both unsure of what to say next.

Finally, Chloe cut in. "After it was over, we had to get out of there. So we hit the road and didn't look back. We don't even know what's happening down there right now."

"Well," Ryan said while leaning forward. "That we can help with. Vanessa and I have been glued to the TV since Friday night. That freak storm has been on all the news channels twenty four seven. No one knows what to make of it. Apparently it's got meteorologists outright stumped. But... it doesn't sound like there were many survivors. I think you two might be the only few that made it out alive."

"There was those cops and that security guard, though," Vanessa reminded Ryan. "That's the other thing that's been on the news. Apparently one of the teachers at your school was abducting students!"

 _Holy shit,_ Max thought. _David survived? Wowsers. I guess, he probably thinks we died along with everyone else. And I suppose that also means Mark is going to have to face justice. In that, at least, I can take some serious satisfaction._

Max and Chloe exchanged a look, causing both Max's parents to gain worried expressions. "Max, I looked it up, and this Mark Jefferson character was your photography teacher. I think I even remember you talking about him before you left. He didn't-he didn't hurt you, did he?"

For a moment Max wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't want to lie to her parents, but her Dark Room experience never happened in this reality. As things stood her imprisonment and near death was nothing more than a nightmare forever confined to her memories. Underneath the table she felt Chloe grab her hand and give it a small squeeze.

"No," Max lied. "I don't think I was on his… _list_."

Ryan creased his eyebrows. "I feel like there's more that you guys aren't telling us..."

"... Yeah. Over the past week Chloe and I-we were trying to find what happened to a missing friend of hers. Rachel Amber. We followed a trail of clues that lead us right to Mr. Jefferson. That's when we told David, the security guard, and let him handle the rest. But then the storm hit."

Vanessa had covered her mouth with a hand in shock. "Oh my god, Max, honey. Did, did you find out what happened to Chloe's friend?"

Max gave a grim nod, staring at the table.

"Mark and his protege murdered her," Chloe answered with a hint of bitterness. "We found her body… that's when we went to tell my step-dad. David."

Ryan's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, that security guard was Joyce's _husband?_ This-this is quite the tale, you guys."

"I know," Max affirmed. "It's right up there with a monster on an airplane wing. But it's over now. Right? Jefferson's in prison?" Max couldn't prevent the worry from creeping into her voice.

"Of course, honey," Vanessa reassured. "Apparently they waited out the storm in that creep's bunker and booked him at Tillamook this morning."

Max let out a sigh of relief. _Whew. Thank god. At least we can finally put that problem to rest._

Chloe was the next to speak. "So, there were no other survivors?"

Max turned to give Chloe a worried look. _I guess she's still holding out hope? I can't blame her. But I_ know _what happens to the diner. To Joyce. To Frank. To all those poor people…_

Ryan and Vanessa shook their heads. "I'm sorry, Chloe… this tornado, it's not like _anything_ anyone has seen in, well, recorded history. The rescue effort got into full swing this morning, but we've been watching the news all day while you slept. There's been a few survivors, but no names we recognized…" Ryan trailed off, realizing how much these words must hurt the young woman sitting across from him.

Chloe's crestfallen expression tore into Max's heart as she internalized the full weight of her decision. _You took her mother away,_ Max reprimanded herself. _First her father, now her mother. Against her will. Again and again she asks you to just_ let her die _but you keep dragging her back from the brink. What right do I have to do this? Does she secretly hate me? Where do we even go from here? I know all I want is her, but how could she feel the same, after what happened? If she stays with me, will it be out of guilt? Obligation to her "friend" that saved her life at the expense those she loved the most?_

Max made a motion to hold Chloe's hand, but Chloe just shut her eyes, turning her head away from her audience. With a calculated motion, Chloe slowly rose to her feet and excused herself, retreating to the guest bedroom.

* * *

Chloe felt her surroundings spin a little, a creeping nausea taking hold as she allowed the reality that _her mom is dead_ to fully sink in. Quietly, she collapsed onto the bed, curling up into a ball.

After a few minutes Chloe heard the door softly open and shut. Max laid down beside her, placing a lose arm over her body in reassurance. "She didn't deserve to die, Max," was all Chloe could think to say. "I… we had our issues, our fights. But I meant what I said. She didn't deserve to get... snuffed out... like that. None of them did."

Max remained silent for a while, trying to compile a meaningful response. What was there to say? Chloe was right. No one deserved that fate. The fate Max created. And it _was_ a selfish choice. She had condemned so many people to a wrongful death simply because she couldn't bear the thought of Chloe dying alone, feeling worthless and abandoned.

Of course, there was always the chance that the storm was an immutable event. Maybe the it had nothing to do with Chloe living or dying. They would never know for sure. And that uncertainty was a fact with which Max was going to have to live.

"I couldn't do it, Chloe. Maybe I'm the worst person to have these powers. Maybe they were supposed to go to someone more pure, more honest. Someone who could make the hard choice. And do the right thing. But they didn't. And as fucking horrible as it sounds, I can only do what I know _I_ can live with.

Even if you curse me. Push me away. Hate me forever... I wouldn't change a thing. If it's one thing I _did_ learn last week, Chloe, it's that I can't let you die. I just _can't._ "

Max ended her confession with a sob, unable to control the emotional dam she had created in order to be strong for Chloe. Chloe unraveled herself, shifting around to face Max directly. Their faces met, eyes searching the other's for a strand of meaning, an explanation for the batshit insanity of the past few days. Without hesitation, Max brought her lips in for a chaste, but earnest, kiss on Chloe's lips. She immediately withdrew, suddenly terrified at her bold action.

 _Holy fuck, Caulfield,_ Max thought, terrified at how Chloe might respond. _What the hell? She's mourning her dead mother, and you go and fucking_ kiss _her? Like she's concerned with that right now! Like that's something even remotely on her mind. I could… I could take it back…_

"Don't you fucking dare, Caulfield," Chloe commanded, staring directly into Max's frantic eyes. "I know what you're thinking. Don't. And it's okay. I… I feel the same way, Max." Chloe reinforced her confession by pulling Max close, pressing her head against her shoulder. "I just... fuck, Max. I'm so broken. I'm only going to drag you down. You deserve better than the toxic heap of waste that is my life."

"You're so full of shit, Chloe," Max half sobbed and laughed at the same time. "You know there's no reality in which we're not together, right? I would tear apart the fucking world for you." Max faltered, frightened at the earnestness in her own voice and the intensity of her proclamation.

Chloe was stunned, unable to concoct a response for several moments to such a forceful admission. She raised a hand to Max's face, tracing her fingers in smooth lines among her freckles. "I believe you, Max."

* * *

 _One door closes, and another opens,_ Chloe thought as she lay beside Max. After declaring their feelings for one another, Max had fallen into a light sleep, tossing and turning only a little. Occasionally Chloe would her name escape Max's lips. It felt good.

 _From an objective standpoint, this is so fucked. First I lose my dad, then Rachel. Then this wizard of a girl springs back into my life after five years of the cold shoulder. And fuck, I took her back without a second thought. Was it just desperation? As much as I hate admitting it, being alone sucks ass. Without Rachel around, I was so lost. Max coming back was just… it was the first_ good _thing to happen in so long. And she seems so earnest… but does that make up for everything? She ignored me when I needed her the most. Who's to say she won't do it again? Would it be better to skip to the chase? Take off now? Before she has the chance to ditch me again?_

Chloe's thoughts often wound up in this place-a whirlwind of self doubt and uncertainty. A lifetime of death and abandonment had left its mark, and it would take more than a few days to fully heal. A sudden urge for a cigarette took hold. Chloe silently slid out from the bed, being careful to not wake Max. Before leaving the room, Chloe gave a lingering look at her… girlfriend? Best friend with benefits? She couldn't tell exactly what they were. But at least they had time to figure it out.

Chloe stealthed through the hallways, avoiding the Caulfields, and found refuge in the solitude of their backyard. She paced it tirelessly, taking steady drags from her cigarette. But her concentration was broken at the vibration of her cell phone. _Mom,_ was all she could think. But it wasn't. The caller ID read "Step-Douche."

 _Great. I guess I should just get this over with._

She accepted the call and raised the phone to her ear.

"Chloe? Chloe!? Please, god, tell me that's you."

The reception was crackly and full of static. But Chloe couldn't ignore the earnest worry conveyed in his voice.

"Yeah, David, it's me. S-sorry I didn't get in touch earlier. Glad… glad to hear you're okay."

"Oh, Christ, Chloe, thank god. I was so worried. Things are so chaotic down here, we're finding new bodies by the minute. We…" David's voice stopped for a moment, and Chloe could swear she heard him sob. "... we found Joyce. I'm so sorry Chloe."

Again, the world spun a little. Chloe felt momentarily weightless, like she was floating in space. No direction was up. Nothing felt like anything.

"Chloe? Are you there?"

Chloe collapsed to the ground, trying her best to control the sobs. But she kept the phone close to her face.

"Chloe… It's going to be okay. We'll take care of each other, alright? Just stay strong, Chloe. It's what Joyce would have wanted."

Collecting herself, Chloe was finally able to formulate a response. "I-I know."

"Chloe, where are you? Are you safe? Are you hurt?"

"No. No, we're fine," Choe stammered, collecting herself. "Max and I were at the lighthouse when the storm hit. Afterwards we just, we hit the road. We drove straight to Seattle. We're at Max's parents' house right now."

"Oh, thank Christ," David exclaimed, the relief in his voice palpable. "Stay there, alright? Just, stay there. Stay safe."

"We will, David. Don't worry about us. We'll be fine."

"Keep in touch, Chloe. I'll talk to you soon."

With that, Chloe ended the call. She was still on the ground as she brought the cell phone down to her knees, staring at the screen. Her tears began to mix with a steady drizzle of rain that started moments earlier. Looking up, she saw only gray overcast above, perfectly reflecting the state of her soul.

* * *

"Yes, affirmative. Both of the targets remain at the Caulfield residence. We'll hold here until further instructions."

The bald man rolled his eyes as he ended the call and conveyed an expression of doubt to his partner seated beside him in the sleek, black Escalade parked down the street from Max's house.

"Can you believe this shit?" he asked. "Why the _fuck_ does bossman care about two tweenie girls?"

"Not our place to ask, Mandaver. We're here to do a job. And with the kinda money Prescott shits out, I'm not inclined to ask questions."

"Amen to that," the driver replied. "Still. Arcadia Bay is a fucking disaster zone right now. Doesn't he want us there, protecting his assets?"

"The man made it very clear that we keep a close eye on these two. My money's on that they know something they shouldn't. So enough with the bitching, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," he relented while bringing a Starbucks cup to his lips. "This just ain't how I saw my employment here turning out. The sooner we bag these delinquents, the happier I'll be."


	2. Broadway Shuffle

Chapter Text

Chloe was a wreck and she knew it. Sliding back into bed beside Max, she struggled to maintain an unconcerned composure. More than anything, she didn't want to add to Max's growing list of worries. But the shuffle of movement was enough to disturb Max's sleep and within seconds she asked the question Chloe dreaded most.

"Chloe, what's wrong?"

Wincing, Chloe slowly turned to face Max while painfully controlling her expression. "Just talked to step... David. Dude really did survive. He told me they found Joyce. She's... she's dead, Max. My mom's..." Chloe's voice cracked as it trailed off, hidden under a stream of fresh tears down her face. Without hesitation Max threw her arms around her, squeezing as tight as she could. "I'm sorry, Chloe. I wish there was another way..."

Chloe choked back a sob. "There was, Max. And you threw it away."

Max didn't relent her grip, but Chloe knew how her words must have stung. She regretted them the moment they left her lips. Story of her life. _I just can't help myself, can I? Even... even when I find someone who's willing to do_ anything _to save my sorry ass, I still have to be an absolute dick. Maybe David and I aren't so different..._

Max crashed Chloe's thoughts with a whisper. "It's like I said, Chloe. I don't regret it. And I'd do it again."

Somehow Max's repeated conviction brought a sliver of peace to the maelstrom that was Chloe's self loathing. The thought that there was someone who was willing to do literally _anything_ for her was as baffling as it was terrifying. _I don't deserve this. But I'll try my best to be worthy of it._

"L-let's get out of the house tomorrow, alright?" Max proposed hesitantly after a short silence. "We can't stay cooped up in here forever. Besides, th-there's a whole c-city we gotta check out."

The brief but poignant quavers in Max's voice betrayed her uncertainty. _God. Poor girl. She's trying to be strong, again, for me. So that I can wallow in my misery. That's such fucking bullshit! If anything, she's the one that should be a complete wreck right now!_

Yes, Chloe wanted to hit the town with Max. Yes, she wanted to raise hell. To escape to her more naive self of wanton excess and exuberance. But was that even possible anymore? Despite her desire to be strong, Chloe felt like a dead weight had been placed on her. One that possibly not even Max could move. It was different this time. When she lost her father it was the death of her innocence. A proverbial curtain draw on her childhood, and a solemn prelude to her chaotic descent: a world of wild parties, drugs, and meaningless sex. Anything to take that "edge" off. Things did improve when Rachel entered her life, but they remained every bit as turbulent.

Chloe knew she was no stranger to death. Which was perhaps what made processing Joyce's passing so much more difficult. Despite it being her own mother that died, the empty, soul crushing denial and terror that consumed her fourteen year old self was strangely-horrifyingly-absent. She felt like she should be more pissed. More angry. Lashing out, hurting all those around her in an effort to numb out the pain with anything else. It was what she did before. Why wasn't she doing it now?

But this time _was_ different. Perhaps it was because she knew, deep down, that if given the choice, Joyce would side with Max. That Joyce would die for her daughter without a moments hesitation. And this time she had Max. Someone that she knew for a _fact_ loved her without condition and without remorse. Chloe knew it was shitty, but in that moment she unconsciously anchored herself onto the girl lying beside her, allowing Max's unwavering belief to become a freshly laid bedrock of stability.

 _I'm sorry, Max. You deserve so much better. Better than this broken shit pile of a person. But I know there's nothing I can do to convince you of that. So... I'll lean on you. Fuck. You're a real piece of shit, Chloe Price._

* * *

The following day the duo headed out to Broadway Ave, a popular spot for young adults of their age. Centered mostly around the community college the street's businesses presented every which way of storefront odds and ends, completed by a plethora of bars (catering to the full spectrum of orientations) and restaurants. Max realized that, as she walked down the street hand-in-hand with Chloe, that they fit _right_ in with the general vibe of the area; not a single person batted an eyelash at the sight of two girls showing physical affection in public.

Chloe pulled them both into a now-antiquated record shop that had somehow weathered the apocalyptic storm that was digital music over the past decade. _That's right-there's still a market for vinyl and CD. Especially with the Seattle retro crowd._

"So you never told me much about your life here, Max," Chloe commented as she browsed the CD section for a particular band.

Max chuckled. "Didn't realize you wanted to be put to sleep so quickly. I think I lead one of the most stereotypically boring lives imaginable."

"Max," Chloe paused to face her directly. "I know you didn't just spend _all_ your time holed up in your room. Seriously, where did you go to chill? Favorite coffee shops? I mean, I know there's no way you had anything as cool as American Rust, but you must've had _something._ "

Chloe's insistence made Max retreat a little. Never the most confident person in the world, she had spent most of her high school years squirreled away where ever she could find peace and quiet. And for the most part, that truly was her room at home. Her tumultuous times at Garfield High had impressed both good and bad memories. Some of the kids were quite nice, while others rather mean. She had acquired more than her fair share of cringe-worthy memories. Throughout it all she had kept mostly to herself, befriending only a few acquaintances to call her own. On the occasions she did get out, it was either at the repeated behest of a friend, or a self-imposed sense of duty to not spent the entirety of her teenage years indoors.

"Well, there are some pretty cool places to just hang out and chill. In fact-yeah, after this, we should go check out Gasworks park."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Love the sound of that. Sounds hella punk."

Max beamed at being able to get a "hella" out of Chloe. It was the first she'd heard since leaving the Bay.

"And it's got some amazing photo-ops," Max added. "You always see a ton of wedding parties there." She blushed immediately after finishing her sentence. She wasn't even sure why. Her embarrassment wasn't lost on Chloe, who formed a sly grin at seeing Max squirm at her own words.

"Can I help you ladies find anything?" a store clerk in his mid twenties asked as he approached them both, though his eyes seemed glued to Chloe. Like Chloe, he sported a punk rock fatigue complete with large skull tattoo on his forearm. _Hmmph. This dweeb better not be..._

"Nah. We're good," Chloe replied flippantly. "Although. You know the music scene around here? I'm new in town. Any good places to go thrash?"

The clerk immediately lit up. "Hell yeah there are. There's gonna be a _choice_ show tomorrow night down at the Dive Box," he said while leaning onto one of the shelves. "It's south of downtown, in the SODO district. You know, if you're lookin' for someone to go with-"

"That's awesome, dude," Chloe interrupted. "What about weed, any place to score that around here?"

The clerk recovered quickly from the blasé rejection. "Well, the shops haven't quite opened up yet. But you look a little young to be able to buy legally anyway. I could hook you and your friend up, though. How much you looking to buy?"

"An eighth would set us right, if you please."

"Easy. Just let me make a call, alright? We'll get you two hooked up. Oh, it's Sam, by the way," he extended his hand for a shake. Chloe took it with a wry grin. "Chloe. And this is my girlfriend, Max."

Max found herself more than a bit delighted at the squelched hint of surprise on Sam's face. _God, she is incorrigible. That was kind of awesome, though. And, I guess, that makes it official? I mean, we've told each other how we feel. But we haven't exactly had "the talk" yet._

Sam, for his part, buried his disappointment with grace. "A pleasure. Just gimmie a sec, alright?"

Alone again, Max bumped her waist into Chloe's and gave her a _look_ from the corner of her eye. "Jeez, Chloe. Only a few minutes in town and you've already got an invite to a concert and scored drugs. I lived here for five years without that ever happening."

Chloe flashed an impish grin. "Guys like that are easy. They only want one thing."

"If you say so, _girlfriend._ "

Max was shocked to see Chloe blush a little, rubbing the back of her head in a nervous gesture. _Not as confident as you put on, huh? I guess that fits, though. She really is like a stand-offish but adorable puppy._

Feeling emboldened, Max slid her arm around Chloe's waist, hugging her close while they waited for an update from Sam. Chloe continued to browse the CD racks, eyebrows raising occasionally as she spotted intriguing albums, all the while stealing occasional glances at Max.

Max wasn't so shy. She stared up at Chloe's face, unable to control the overwhelming sense of relief that despite everything, Chloe was _alive._

 _I still can't believe it, sometimes. That she's standing right here, living life. I hope I'm not getting to clingy. But after everything I've been through, I feel like I need to constantly know that she's okay. That she hasn't gotten snuffed out by some cruel whim of the universe._

Eventually, Sam returned with a grinning expression. "Yooo, yeah, my buddy'll be here any minute. Just hang tight for a bit, yeah?"

* * *

Weed acquired, Max convinced Chloe hit the street again, this time in search of food.

"Oh, I'll bet you haven't had pho yet!" Max grinned, taking Chloe's hand and dragging her northwards up the sidewalk.

"Excuse me? The hell is that?"

"Vietnamese noodle soup. It's totes delish. Used to nosh on it all the time after school. Crazy cheap, too."

"Okay, I'll just have to trust you on this one..."

They heard crazed "whooping" from across the road as they passed the community college: a multi-storied, imposing, red-bricked building predicated by a courtyard constructed from the same material. A small troop of college-age girls marched down the sidewalk, painted and bare chested. Chloe paused to oogle. Beside her, Max chuckled.

"Yeah, the student body at Seattle Central is a bit... touched. This isn't an uncommon sight. They're probably protesting something. Or, promoting something. Who knows."

"Seattle Central, you say," Chloe mused as Max dragged her away and towards the restaurant. "I think I could grow to like it here."

Max shot Chloe a smile as they pushed their way through the door into the restaurant. A large mural depicting life in Vietnam covered the interior wall to their right, catching Chloe's attention as Max raised two fingers at the hostess. Within moments they were seated and Max promptly ordered for the both of them.

Her eyes then fixed at the table. She felt a bit apprehensive about the next topic as she realized Chloe was giving her the stink eye. "What? Out with it, Caulfield."

"You know, in one of the... alternate... timelines, you texted me."

Chloe mock gasped. "You don't say."

Max kicked Chloe's shins from under the table. "You said you were gonna apply to community college."

Chloe leaned back in her chair, letting her mouth open slightly before closing it again. Max looked up from the table, trying to get a read on her friend.

"I guess... it's something I've thought about. Bay City, right? I hated Blackwell, but I do remember how things were. Before dad died. I was pretty kick-ass when it came to school, right?"

"The most kick ass," Max swooned. "You're smart, Chloe. And awesome, and amazing in every..."

This time it was Max's time to receive a swift knock to her shins. "Ow! Chloe!"

"Enough with the undeserved praise, Max. You can give it to me when I've actually accomplished something."

Before Max could answer the waitress brought them their soup. Chloe leaned forward to waft in the subtle aroma of the broth. "Holy shit this smells good," she exclaimed with hungry eyes.

"Here, like this," Max motioned as she grabbed chopsticks in one hand and a small spoon in the other. She couldn't help but giggle at Chloe's feeble attempts to pull up strands of the rice noodles.

"This is crazy delicious, but also kinda difficult, Max," she muttered as the noodles once again slipped through her sticks and splashed back into the soup.

"You get used to it. I remember my first time was hard, too."

Chloe smirked at the opportunity to tease. "It usually is, Max. But, do, please. Tell me more."

Max blushed furiously, and gave Chloe another kick from underneath the table. "Shut up, doofus. Eat your soup."

"Ooo la la," Chloe chirped as she wiggled her eyebrows. "I think I like bossy Max."

That was another thing the pair never talked about last week. Max had gotten the impression Chloe was no stranger to relationships, and sex, and all that noise. Max didn't think much of it. It seemed obvious Chloe would be... well, her dress and confident attitude made it clear she was very much at home in her own body. But now? It was hard to not feel a little jealous.

Max resisted a blush and decided to focus on her meal. Several minutes and two empty bowls later, Chloe reached a hand across the table to grab Max's, pulling it towards her. "Good idea, Max. Though I think my stomach about to burst. That was fuck ton of liquid."

"Right?" Max giggled in response. "So, onto Gasworks?"

"Hell yeah. Let's steam punk it up!"

* * *

After a half hour spent exploring the ruins of the gasification plant, Max and Chloe came to rest on the large, grassy hill overlooking lake Union. Before them the massive lake stretched outward, its opposite shore presenting a magnificent view of downtown Seattle.

Although Max did had to repeatedly nag Chloe to remain within the bounds open to the public, she had never remembered having so much fun at the park. Her message bag was practically full with pictures of Chloe climbing on old pipes and engines (in clear violation of posted signs, of course). Exhausted, they leaned against each other, enjoying the remaining rays of sunlight reflected by the city's skyscrapers.

As the sun continued its descent into the horizon, Max tugged at Chloe, pulling them both down to lie flat on the grass. High overhead a kite flapped around gently in the breeze. Despite it being a Sunday, the park was more or less deserted. Only a single couple was within sight, walking slowly down the main path some distance away.

Wordlessly, Chloe snapped back up and whipped out her "stash" to begin rolling a joint. She breathed a steady sigh of relief as she pulled and released, letting the smoke permeate her lungs for as long as she could hold it. Max caught the moment with her Polaroid.

"You've been going nuts with that thing today. Should save some pics for later, yeah? Isn't film for that thing stupid expensive these days?"

Max gave a waxing smile as she slipped the camera and recent picture back into her bag. Today had been a wonderful distraction. An opportunity to forget the horror they ran from and to try and just be _happy_ again. But the monster of her recent past was not to be ignored for long. Even the visage of the city itself was a casual reminder: a mass of people, both friends and strangers, condemned to death at the behest of her whim.

The dark, brooding whispers of guilt pushed her thoughts towards considering an attempt to make things right. A course to change things. Again. Although Max had not attempted any use of her powers since leaving Arcadia Bay, she knew they remained. Several times over the past hour, while taking photos, she had briefly caught the all-to-familiar shimmer in their image. But was to be gained? Focusing to change events had become something she was loathe to do. There were so many unknowns. What _really_ happened, every time she jumped? Did she ditch a copy of herself, like her nightmare suggested? And the way she "overwrote" herself each time she fast-forwarded back... Max shuddered involuntarily at the thought. Could _she_ someday be a "defunct" Max?

"Max?" Chloe asked with concern as she blew out another plume of smoke. "You've got that look again."

"I know, Chloe. Just... just thinking."

"Well, there's your first problem. You should try some of this. Could help..." Chloe offered, leaning the joint towards Max's hands.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I think... I need to learn how to deal with this on my own."

Chloe shrugged before returning the joint to her lips. "Suit yourself."

Both girls remained silent for a long moment as they watched a bird of prey swoop into the lake and immediately take flight skywards, prey struggling in its talons. "You haven't asked me about my powers," Max observed, breaking the silence.

Chloe gave Max a long look, unsure of how to proceed. "Y-Yeah. Well, I figure you'll talk about it. When you're ready."

Max propped herself back up with both her elbows. "They're still with me, Chloe. I can feel them." Max let out a short laugh. "I guess I had kinda hoped they would be gone, you know? That I could be done with it-try and put all this behind me. Behind us."

Chloe sat in silence, wanting more than anything to say something to comfort Max, but not sure what. "Well, maybe you really do have them for a greater reason?"-Chloe gave a quick pause before adding-"Whatever the fuck that might mean..."

Max turned to give Chloe an incredulous look, against which Chloe balked in self defense. "What? I'm serious, Max. What you can do. That's some serious world-bending shit. Even I, queen of everything cynical, can't believe it's just _random_ that you got those powers."

"Maybe it _is_ , though," Max countered, trying to hide the hint of frustration in her voice. "Maybe this is just all some fucked up simulation, running on a god damn computer somewhere. Maybe I was _literally_ chosen at random."

Chloe chuckled. "Uh, what?"

Max rolled her eyes. "One of the crazy theories that Warren directed me to. That this entire universe is nothing more than a giant, super advanced simulation."

"Oh, like, The Matrix, or some shit like that?"

Max sighed and pulled at some leaves of grass while giving the city another wistful look. "Yeah. Something like that."

Her entire thread of investigation into Warren's theories had lead nowhere. Max felt stupid to have pursued it, in retrospect. What had she honestly expected to learn from a bunch of conspiracy theories, pseudo-science, and outright science fiction? _Warren sure seemed eager to supply me with leads, though. Poor guy. Girl he likes shows asks for a brain dump of all his interests, but not for the reasons he expects. Not that it matters anymore._ This morning Max had solemnly reviewed the names of the bodies found so far during the recovery efforts. Warren had been among them. Along with so many other names she recognized.

Max listlessly gazed upwards and caught sight of a seaplane making its approach onto the lake. _So many dead. All because I couldn't give up one person. And I'd do it again. God help me._

"So yeah, this girl's still powered," Max continued. "I don't know if it's wise to keep playing with it though, Chloe. Yeah, we could totally take on the world. But at what cost? Another town? A whole city?"

Chloe was smiling, staring directly at Max's face, who kept her gaze focused on the buildings in the distance. "Well, whatever you decide, I'll still be your faithful chauffeur and companion. Always."

Max couldn't keep the grin from forming across her jawline. "Then we're gonna have to have a talk about your mode of transit," she chuckled. "A half-running truck is a poor fit for a fully realized Time Warrior."

Chloe gasped. "Oh, don't you dare. The truck is off limits, Caulfield. That's my _baby_ you're talking 'bout there."

Max giggled. "Hmm, and here I thought _I_ was your-"

Chloe didn't let Max finish the sentence. With a swift push, she pushed the smaller girl onto the grass, connecting their lips with in a forceful but tender motion. Suddenly all the weights, the worries, the nauseating terror of her decision, all seemed to melt away, carried off by the autumn breeze. For a moment the world stopped, and Maxine Caulfield felt at peace.

* * *

"What? Chew you food, hippie," Chloe laughed. "Can't understand a word you're saying."

 _Uugh. This girl is so damn cute when she tries to talk and eat at the same time,_ Chloe chuckled to herself. _I... I really don't deserve this. To be happy. How the hell am_ happy _right now? My goddamn mom died less than two days ago! What the honest fuck is wrong with me?_ But it was a rhetorical question. She knew the girl seated next to her presented the answer. _I could just sit and stare at her face all fucking day. It's insane now cute she got. I mean, I was already crushing on her before dad died. Now? Jesus Christ. No wonder I took her back in a heartbeat._

Max had demanded they grab food at the local burger chain of choice, Dick's. After giggling and scoffing at the name, Chloe expressed her doubts, claiming nothing could compete with the Two Whales offering. But Max wouldn't shut up about the greasy goodness of their burgers, fries, and awesome milkshakes. Chloe finally relented and after a short drive to the restaurant and receiving their order, quickly recanted after the first bite. They both consumed their meal in Chloe's truck, which was stopped in the restaurant's parking lot. The location closest to Gasworks-the one near the university-was drive-in only.

 _It actually gives the whole experience a bit of charm. Even the advertising on this place looks retro._

Max finished gulping down the fries she had just smashed into her face and took a second attempt at the English language. "Is good, right?"

"Yeah, you got me, this is pretty damn good. I can't believe you were living it up like this for five damn years."

Despite the food, Max turned down-crest at the recollection of her own rather shitty behavior towards her best friend over the past, well, five years.

"Hey. Sorry. That-that was dumb of me," Chloe quickly backtracked.

"No, it wasn't, Chloe. We never really talked about it, did we, last week? How I ditched you..."

"We don't have to, Max. Look, I get it. It was rough for both of us, and, well, I guess what I'm trying to say, is that I don't blame you. I mean, I'm not gonna lie, it hurt like hell when you just dumped me like that. But man, when you blasted back into my life last Monday? No one, except maybe Rachel, has ever been there for me like that. So consider yourself forgiven Caulfield. And after everything that happened, I'm not gonna let you add stupid teenage behavior to your laundry list of things to feel guilty about. It is forbidden. You've got enough on your chest."

Max formed a weary smile as she leaned over, her shoulder bumping into Chloe's as they ate the remainder of their meal in silence, people watching the comings and goings of starved, and often drunk, UW students.

 _I guess this is my life_ _now,_ Chloe considered. _I've got the most wonderful girlfriend imaginable, broken as she is. I know she's in more pain than she's letting on. And I can't let her just bottle it up-it'll destroy her. I know that from fucking experience._

 _I wonder if she'll come around on her powers? I mean, there's no way the storm wasn't a direct result of her saving my ass. So, small changes should be fine... right? I mean, I feel like we should at least, experiment. See what we can, and can't, do. For science, you know?_

Chloe had to shake her head to kill the thought. She knew Max wouldn't approve. Max saw her gift as a weapon, the use of which yielded only suffering and destruction. But how long would her self imposed recusal last? Chloe couldn't help but think to the future-what they could do if Max embraced who she was. Chloe felt echos from her old self, the one before her epiphany at the lighthouse, start to surface in her mind. She couldn't escape the child-like wonder at the realization of what Max could do.

The emotion was quickly followed by awe. Despite being granted the ability to shape reality itself, Max had chosen to simply _tag along_ with her and her misbegotten quest. All throughout that week, Chloe realized with another pang of guilt, Max stayed by her side. Saving her. Making the hard choices and suffering their consequences. Putting up with her shit.

 _I can't believe I gave her shit in the diner for trying to help that poor Kate girl. Another entry in the "why Chloe is a terrible person" list. Ugh. Shut up and eat your burger, brain._

* * *

 _"Still_ no update? Just... follow these two around town all day like a pair of creeps?"

"You heard what I heard. Just sit and watch," man riding shotgun chided. "Besides, ain't as if this is difficult, or anything. We got a tracker on that punk's truck so tailing them is a fucking cakewalk. And you know as well as I they haven't done anything to warrant further action."

"Yeah, yeah," the driver sighed. "God, I wish they would. Then we could just ice them and get the fuck back to our real jobs. I hate babysitting."

"Easy there, Rambo. We don't even know if these two pose any real threat. We're just here as insurance."

The driver grunted, leaning back into his seat. "One fucking expensive-ass insurance policy."

"You know the boss. Man only pays for the best."

Both men jolted forward in surprise as the "primary" cell phone began to ring. Exchanging a look, the driver motioned for his partner to answer it.

"Team five? We've confirmed their identities. You're cleared to neutralize the threats at your earliest opportunity." Without waiting for an answer, the person on the other end of the line hung up.

"Well, looks like you're gonna get your wish, you crazy bastard."

The driver responded with a grin.


	3. Ashes to the Wind

Late into the evening Max and Chloe returned home and joined the Caulfields, now sitting together in the living room for a recap of the day. The smell of freshly brewed decaf filled the room as Max took a long sip from her mug. _I always did love how dad made coffee. I know he uses Costco beans, but man, I swear it's just_ better _somehow._ Outside, Max caught a reflective glint off the eyes of a racoon that had paused by the french doors leading into the backyard. For a moment she swore the animal was giving her an odd stare, conjuring memories from her final week in Arcadia Bay. _I guess that's another mystery we'll never solve. I hope whatever that doe was, it's at peace, now..._ But their connection was lost as quick as it had started, as something spooked the animal and it hurried off into the dark.

Figuring she might need some space, Max's parents had restrained themselves to only a half dozen texts throughout the day to check in on their daughter. Max sat comfortably next to Chloe, edging closer to her after initially taking a seat on the couch. Vanessa, taking one of the armchairs, seemed to notice, and raised an eyebrow in response.

"So, did you girls have a good day out on the town?" Vanessa began.

Chloe's intuition told her Max was most definitely not up to the task of conversation, so she took point without hesitation. "It was pretty kick ass, Ms. Caulfield. Max certainly knows how to tear it up in Seattle." She smiled and gave Max a friendly punch in the arm. "Girl knows this town like the back of her hand."

Max countered with a small elbow to Chloe's gut, trying to hide an embarrassed smile. She followed up the gesture by squirming under Chloe's arm, who gladly shifted to accommodate. Both Max's parents exchanged a look.

"That's... that's great to hear," Ryan commented. Looking up to Chloe, he continued, "We've worried about her, you know, over the past few years. Our little lady here has become quite the introvert."

"Dad." Max intoned, a bit embarrassed at being talked about as if she wasn't present. "I'm right here."

"We know, honey," Vanessa said, the relief in her tone still palpable. "We just... we were so worried, Max. We thought we'd lost you."

Max sunk a bit further into Chloe's side, not sure how to handle her parent's concern. _I'm... I'm glad my parents are happy. But would they even be saying that if they knew... what I did? How selfish I am? God, this sucks so hard. One minute I'm happy, knowing that Chloe is alive. Safe. By my side. Then the next... all I can see is that fucking tornado. I don't know if I can face this. Even_ with _Chloe's support..._

 _And what happens when it gets out, that Chloe and I survived? I guess David knows, but has he gotten a chance to tell anyone? We already learned that pretty much no one else made it. We're, like, the sole witnesses to the worst natural disaster in Oregon's history._

Max chewed over the implications of the thought. _I swear to god I_ will _use my powers again if a reporter shows up at the doorstep. Do not want._

Max knew she needed to start thinking about how to pick up the pieces of her life. She wouldn't be recused from shunning her future forever. Eventually her parents would get worried, make her seek counseling, or some bullshit. _That would be the day. So, Ms. Caulfield? What's got you down? Murder an entire town with a biblical scale time-travel storm? Oh, yeah, one of those came in last week! We even got a pill for it!_

But the prospect of actually raising her head and facing reality remained dauntingly impossible. She was frozen-helpless against a sticky morass of shock that solidified more and more with each passing hour. Sure, there were moments during their adventure today when Chloe was able to lighten her spirits. To make her forget, if only for a spell. She cherished them more than anything. How soon, though, until Chloe came to her senses? A week? A year? Eventually she would realize Max was tethered in place, unable to grow and move past her guilt. _Only a matter of time_ , Max concluded while fighting to keep her lip from trembling. And when it happened, Max knew she would truly get a taste of her own medicine. It would be Max's turn to be abandoned. Chloe would find someone who wouldn't weigh her down, while Max would fall to pieces, a guilty shipwreck sinking slowly to the ocean's floor.

A knuckle grinding into Max's head broke her reverie. "Yeah, this one's got a case of the space-head, alright."

Max bumped her head into Chloe's shoulder in retort. "What?"

"Your dad asked if you need any food before bed," Chloe said, before leaning in close for a confidential whisper. "You're so cute when you zone out like that."

 _Oh my DOG why does she do that in front of my parents! Honestly, does this woman have no filter?_

Blushing, Max quickly rose raising an arm to her shoulder, eyes plastered to the hardwood floors. "No! I mean, we had a lot to eat. Thanks though, Dad," Max stammered as she rubbed her sidearm with increasing intensity. "Hey, so, uh, it's pretty late, huh?"

Chloe grinned at the aftermath from her private comment. "Yeah, I hear you," she agreed while stretching out, forming a lanky plank across the couch. "But, fuck, as much as it pains me to say it, I should really give David a call. Check in on how things are going. Also, there's a cigarette with my name on it."

Max's parents took this as an invitation to settle down for the evening. "Works for us," Ryan yawned. "We both gotta get up early for work tomorrow. Breakfast at seven sharp, girls."

"Aye-aye, captn' Caulfield," Chloe grinned, raising a hand to her forehead in mock salute as she slinked out the backdoor.

Watching Chloe leave with an exasperated sigh, Max took the opportunity to take a quick shower and freshen up before bed. After some scrounging around she was finally able to find an old set of pajamas to wear, which still fit like a glove. _Guess there was something good to come out of hitting max height a few years ago. Though I am going to have to replenish my wardrobe. At least that's something mundane to do tomorrow. As if anything can distract me for long._

She took a seat on the side of her bed and let her eyes wander lethargically across her room. Like her dormitory apartment, Max had worked diligently to give her space its own flair and sense of self. A string of Christmas lights spanned the wall opposite the bed, illuminating haphazardly pinned photos and posters. But several of her shelves stood barren, their previous residents no doubt now scattered half way across Arcadia Bay. _Poor empty shelves. Don't worry, I'll feed you again soon. Guess I gotta rebuild my DVD collection. Or just go full blu-ray this time?_

Max sensed it-that invisible _itch_ in the back of her head. A gnawing and tearing rumble, demanding satisfaction. Commanding guilt. Max knew, deep down, that she didn't deserve the benign worries and concerns of an ordinary girl her age. Within minutes her mind yielded to the insatiable thirst for self-loathing and hatred. Slowly, Max brought her feet up to her chest and fell to her side, forming a small egg as she squeezed her knees tight to her chest.

 _Keep it together, dumbass. Chloe needs you. Unlike_ you _, she's actually got something to_ justify _her grief. All the people in her life who loved her: dead. And now all she's got is_ this _pathetic loser. I... I always knew what a dweeb I was, but I never thought I would be the "bad guy." It... hurts... giving that up. I'll never be able to look in the mirror again and fancy myself an underdog. Someone who fights against the daily injustices. Who always loses but could take comfort knowing it was unfair. I never knew how good I had it._

* * *

Chloe paced the Caulfield's lawn in the dark, lit only by the burning embers of a cigarette and the soft glow of a cell phone smashed to her ear. It was the third time calling without an answer.

 _This is... weird_ , she thought. _Not like David to ignore his phone. Fucker's always been a stickler for communications. Well, shit. Guess I'll have to try again tomorrow._

Chloe finished her cigarette with a final plume of smoke directed up towards full moon hanging overhead. Off in the distance, she could make out the faint sounds of traffic-brief honks, unmuffled engines roaring. Indecipherable shouts from the nightlife on the Ave only a meager few blocks away. But otherwise, all was silent.

Quietly, she stepped back inside and caught Vanessa's eye, who was in the midst of her evening routine. She noticed Chloe looking around for Max.

"Max is in her room, honey," she explained. "Did you talk to your step-father?"

"No, David didn't answer. Which is weird. I'll ring him again tomorrow."

"Alright. Well let us know, and tell him we said hi. Any friend of yours and... Joyce's... is a friend of ours."

It took a strength of will for Chloe to bite back with an instinctive, sarcastic remark. _Oh? Like you were friends over the past five years?_

Chloe sighed and told Vanessa she would most definitely pass on her regards. Satisfied, Vanessa took leave and disappeared into her room. Now alone, Chloe briefly paced the house, a bit rattled by the thoughts stirred up from Vanessa's request. _It's not as if they don't share some of the blame, here. Sure, Max was a grade-A asshole for ignoring me all those years. But... I also knew that was her personality. I could've tried harder. Hell, I could've grabbed a greyhound up to Seattle, come crashing down her goddamn front door. She would've been shocked, but I'm sure she would be happy. It's not as if she replaced_ me _with anyone, like I did her. Christ, it's hard not to be pissed at her parents. They obviously didn't give a shit about me or my family. Their "friend" dies, and then zoom! Off to Seattle, see ya never!_

Chloe rubbed her temples-she felt a small headache coming on completed by the urge for another cigarette. _Ugh. I guess I should really think about quitting. Like, how sad would that be? Best friend saves my life again and again, and then I kick the bucket from lung cancer._

So instead, she walked to Max's door and quietly let herself in, shutting it softly behind her. Chloe wasn't exactly shocked to find Max curled up in the fetal position on her bed, facing away from the door. _It's dangerous for her to be alone_ , Chloe realized. She took a seat on the bed and worked on her boot's laces, kicking the footwear off to haphazard locations on the bedroom floor. Without ceremony she did away with her pants and shirt, causing Max to stir a bit as she heard the sounds of undress.

"Come on, Caulfield. Up ya go." Chloe scooted her hand under Max, lifting a bit to pull back the neatly made covers. Max squirmed around, loosening her tight hold around herself gave Chloe a timid look. It was obvious she'd been crying. _Christ. I'm so sorry, Max. You were such a good, earnest person. Still are. Could've had a happy fucking life. Then I came along. Max, meet your old friend! Chloe Price: Destroyer of Worlds. Bringer of All Things Shit._

Chloe swallowed her thoughts, put on a smile, and worked herself into Max's small bed, which, as a single, left little room to spare. Chloe didn't mind, and Max didn't seem to either. They both quickly negotiated into a spooning position, with Chloe softly stroking Max's hair, and other hand gripping Max tightly from the her underside.

"Chloe?" Max asked with a small voice, her mind sounding far away.

"'Sup doc?" Chloe chirped back, mustering a levity to her voice she didn't quite feel.

"We never... we never really discussed... _us_."

Chloe chuckled softly, though she wasn't able to hide her nervousness at where the conversation was going. "Ye-Yeah? What's there to discuss, Max-blaster?"

"Well, like, I mean... we're, girlfriends... right? That wasn't just a... joke... earlier today?"

Despite her best efforts, Chloe's heart rate picked up a little. Heart to heart conversations had never been her strong point and communication without sarcasm was always frightening. And now was definitely not the time for sarcasm.

Carefully, she formed her answer. "Y-yeah. I meant it, back in the music store." Chloe took a deep breath before continuing. "Listen, Max, I-I don't see any future without you in it. I fucking _meant_ what I said last week. Together forever, alright?"

Max let out a breath she'd been holding in. "Th-thank you. Chloe. I know... I know it'd be easier for you to just... I'm a wreck, Chloe." Max cursed herself for not being able to keep her voice from cracking. "I _don't know_ if I'm ever going to get better-"

"Fuck all that noise, Max," Chloe interrupted. "I don't care. I don't care if you're broken, insane, crushed, or whatever. All I care about is the answer to one question: do you want... to be... you know. Together?"

Max lay quiet for a moment. "Yes," she whispered. "More than anything. I _love_ you, Chl-"

Max stiffened, then promptly relaxed, as Chloe enveloped herself around her, bringing their lips together for a tentative kiss. Which ended, and quickly began again, and again.

* * *

Max woke to the faint gurgling noise of fresh coffee being brewed in the kitchen. She wrestled around a bit, blushing a little to find Chloe wrapped up beside her. Bumping her head against Chloe's, she ordered "Wakey wakey-"

"Eggs and bakey," Chloe completed with a yawn. "You do realize, now that you've said it, that there's gotta be eggs and bacon. Otherwise that's cruel and unusual punishment. I could sue!"

"I think you know I don't have anything to my name, Price." Max had meant as banter, but both girls looked down a bit, embarrassed at making light of their recent tragedy.

"Come, come on, Caulfield." Chloe recovered. "Get your bony ass outta bed. As much as I'd love to keep staring at your mug, we don't want to miss free breakfast."

A smile returned to Max's face and she rolled off her side of the bed, raising her hands high in an erect posture for a long stretch.

"Christ," she heard Chloe mutter from the bed behind her. "You are so fucking adorable in those pajamas."

Max couldn't help but assume her awkward hands to shoulder gesture. No one had ever adorable before. At least, not in _that_ way.

Things between the two had remained relatively chaste last night, but Max could already feel the benefits of the physical affection. Her demons felt a little farther away, a little less powerful. She knew it would be a long road, but maybe it _was_ a journey with an end. So long as Chloe was there with her.

A few minutes later had both girls seated at the dining table, satisfied from a freshly prepared breakfast. Vanessa and Ryan exchanged another one of their _looks_ , and took seats at opposite ends. Chloe raised an eyebrow.

 _Uh oh, I know that look. It's lecture time,_ Max grumbled to herself. _They always do this when there's something important to talk about._

"Max, your mother and I have been talking. I know it's only been a few days, and you must still be in shock over what happened. But, you _are_ still a high schooler. The longer you stay out of school, the harder it'll be to get back into the swing of things. You've got to think about your future, honey. We-we'd like to enroll you back at your old high school. We talked to the principal yesterday, and given the circumstances, she agreed to accommodate your situation."

 _God. I guess I should've expected this. I am so not ready for a nose dive back into public high school. Even if it is a bit less drama-fueled than Blackwell. But how can I study, like this? I can barely concentrate for five minutes without falling to pieces. And what would my classmates think? I'd be that weirdo apocalypse survivor. Might as well put a "please pester and annoy annoy this girl" sign around my neck. Fuck that._

 _But, as always, Mom and Dad have a point. I can't just wallow in misery here forever. Maybe there's another way?_

"Dad, couldn't we work out something else," Max asked after completing her thought. "Like, I dunno, home school, or something?"

"Max, you know both your father and I work full time," Vanessa reminded. "They need your father down the Boeing plant, and I'm on track for tenure at the UW. I think it's a wonderful idea, but it's just not feasible."

 _Cursed be the family with two professional parents_ , Max thought dryly. _I know it's good, and they seem so happy and fulfilled with their careers. Even if it cost... no, bad Max! You are not blaming your parents for your faults._ You _abandoned Chloe._ You _created the situation that lead to the storm._

"I know, I know," Max grumbled while picking at a few remains on her plate. _Blast. I might actually have to go back to school. God, well, if I felt like being evil, I could just cheat my way through with my rewind. I'm sure Chloe would approve._

Chloe must have sensed Max wanting the conversation to move on, so she threw her own hat into the ring. "Been thinking about the future a bit, myself. I looked it up, and I could attend Seattle Central, if I pass those Compass exams. I haven't studied in hella long, but I'm sure I could pick it back up. No sweat."

Vanessa removed her gaze from Max to consider Chloe's words. "I think that's a great idea, Chloe. And you're welcome to stay here until you get yourself back on your feet. It's the least we can do."

All attention turned to Max when she involuntarily kicked the top of the table with her knee. "Chloe stays where I am. Alright? End of story."

A strange silence fell over the table. Ryan and Vanessa exchanged another one of their looks. Carefully, Ryan began "Of-of course, pumpkin." Vanessa shot her husband a stare, annoyed that her authority had been so swiftly subverted.

Chloe, for her part, actually wore a blush.

 _Way to go, me. I guess I really did learn to be a little less "chicken shit" over the past few days._

Max's thought was interrupted by the TV in the next room, which was tuned to a news channel reporting on Arcadia Bay.

"Live, from Channel Six news, this is Jimmy Dopher. In a surprise and unprecedented turn of events, Mark Jefferson, the man accused of abducting teenage girls over the course of several years, had his bail posted today by one Sean Prescott, a local real estate mogul and entrepreneur. Mr. Prescott's legal team will be representing and providing advise for Mark Jefferson in his upcoming arraignment and probable trail. In the meantime, they have released an official statement: Mark Jefferson denies any connection to the abductions, claiming that he himself was investigating the disturbingly erratic behavior of one of his students. He asserts that when caught by the police, he had only just discovered the scene himself, and the entire situation was a complete misunderstanding.

Details of the situation were further hampered last night when an electrical fire in the storm bunker destroyed all evidence related to the case. The county police department has profusely apologized, saying rescue and relief efforts hampered their ability to relocate the evidence in an expedient manner. This turn of events is a devastating blow to the prosecution, as the evidence would have surely formed the bulk of their case against Mark Jefferson. Back to you, Tom."

"Thank you, Jimmy. In other Arcadia Bay related news, the search continues for three missing rescue workers, all of whom happen to be the group that booked Mark Jefferson in county jail. Their whereabouts are unknown as of 12:00pm yesterday. Please call the number on the screen below if you have any information. Their names are David Madsen, Joshua Simmons, ..."

Throughout the broadcast Max had zombied from her chair to face the TV, standing still with the color draining from her face, dumbfounded at the revelations. Chloe was close behind bearing a similar stunned expression. Vanessa had placed a hand over her mouth, too surprised for words.

 _What. The. Fuck,_ was all Max could think, over and over again. _This can't be happening. Mark's going to escape justice? David's missing? What the actual hell?_

"Honey, are you okay...?" Vanessa ventured, worried about how the news might affect her daughter.

 _That's right. They don't know. To them, Mark's just some creep that_ might _have hurt me. Fuck. Keep it together Max._

Gulping, Max stammered a reply as she stumbled towards her room, Chloe in tow. "Yeah. I'm fine, mom. Just, feel a bit lightheaded. This girl's head needs a pillow, stat."

"Okay, dear..." Was all Max heard as she shut her bedroom's door behind her and fell onto the bed. All she wanted to do was _scream_. And so, pressing the pillow hard into her face to muffle the sound, she did.

* * *

About an hour later Chloe observed that the shock must be wearing off, as the tremors throughout Max's body subsided into more gentle sobs. Chloe wasn't sure what to do or how to behave. She remembered Max had only gave her the cliffnotes version of what happened in the, from _Chloe's_ perspective, alternate version of Thursday and Friday's events. She recalled Max looking dazed and confused outside that damn Vortex Club party, and then laying into her with a horrified and panicked voice. True to her word, moments later Max had forgotten everything she just said, but she was more than willing to comply with her "future self's" request.

 _She never told me what really happened. Just that I died-again-and that Mark hurt her. And that she was able to use Warren's photograph to come back and change things._ _And now Mark's out of jail, protected by Pres-ass Senior. Fuck. She must be terrified..._

"Max?" Chloe whispered while cupping a side of her face, moving her thumbs along Max's freckles. "Talk to me. Don't-don't leave me hanging, here. You-you never really explained what happened to you. What... what he did. You can't keep that shit bottled up, Max. It'll eat you alive."

After a long silence, Max finally spoke. "He strapped me down to a chair, Chloe. Injected my neck with that... _shit_." Max paused to breath a shuddered breath before continuing. "Mark had this weird fetish. Capturing the _loss of innocence,_ or some pretentious crap like that. _Hah_. If only he knew what I would do a few hours later," she remarked bitterly. "No innocence for this girl..."

"God. Max, that's-that's fucking awful. I just, fuck. We should just hop back in my truck, drive down there, and put a cap in that asshole ourselves."

Somehow Max found herself able to laugh. "That's us, right? Time bandits, hitting the road..."

"I was gonna go with ass bandits, but I'll let you have that one. But Max, in all seriousness, you need to talk about this shit. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Immediately Max remembered the alternate timeline where she saved William. Max had thought about telling Chloe during the jump back to the Vortex Club party, but had decided not too. _I suppose I should... but what good would it do? Just give her more false hope? That maybe there_ could _be something done to save William?_

"I know, Chloe. There's more, well, there's other shit, that happened. During that week. I'm just not up to talking about it right now, okay?"

Chloe nodded, happy that she was at least willing to admit the presence of additional things to work through. "No probs, Max-master. Your loyal servant will wait as long as required."

"Dork," Max jabbed with a roll of her eyes.

Chloe responded with a tight hug, and they both laid in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, Max decided it was time to deal with the matter at hand. "Chloe... I don't think that fire in the Dark Room was an accident."

"Stole the thought right from my mind, Max. It reeks of Prescott covering his ass."

"Agreed. I don't know how he did it, but there's no doubt in my mind Sean is responsible. And. Chloe... I'm worried about David. Like, _really_ worried. He, and those other cops, they were the only witnesses. The only ones alive who've seen the Dark Room. Well, besides us."

 _Oh shit_ , Max realized after she finished speaking. _Mark knows Chloe and I saw the Dark Room. What if he tells Sean? That homeless woman behind the diner made it pretty clear that the Prescotts were not above getting their hands dirty to protect themselves. We need... we need something. Anything. That voice message from Nathan would have been nice..._

Max had already checked her voice messages in this reality for Nathan's final confession. Oddly enough, it wasn't there. She had chalked it up to the butterfly effect in action, but didn't think it would matter. There was plenty of evidence to implicate Mark. Until now.

"Damn... yeah," Chloe agreed. "I-I'm still not fond of David, Max. But I don't... I don't want to see him hurt. Not anymore. He's the only reason you're here with me, right now."

"I know, Chloe. And I'm sure he's fine, somewhere." Max paused before committing to her next proposal. The _last_ thing she wanted was to lead Chloe back into the fire, but there might not be any other way. And she knew she couldn't do this alone. "Chloe, I don't think we can just sit here, in Seattle. If we're right, and Sean _is_ cleaning up witnesses, then we might be in serious danger."

Max felt Chloe's grip around her tighter. "No, Max. Fuck that. _They're_ the ones that are in serious danger. You can _control time_ , remember?"

"My powers don't make me invincible, Chloe. I was helpless in the Dark Room. I was so lucky that there were some spare photos around."

Chloe grunted. "Point taken. So that just means you need practice. Hone your ability, and all that shit."

"Don't you think we should just go to the police? We could testify against Mark. Surely that would count for something?"

"Max. Mark's got the Prescott legal team backing him up. What's the word of a punk rebel drop out, who's already had her fair share of trouble with the law, and a shy hipster, gonna do against that? No offense. It's just, I don't think it'll help. Plus we've already seen how Sean can grease the police. What if the fucker has _judges_ in his pocket? If we seriously want to do something about this situation, we gotta do it ourselves, sista."

Despite swearing off her powers just days earlier, Max found herself coming around to Chloe's suggestion. What was the point of any of this, all this sacrifice, if they just failed here, now? Another casualty of Sean Prescott's evil empire? All those people would have died for nothing. Maybe it _was_ time to take the fight to the enemy. Put an end to this, for good.

Before she knew it, Max found herself agreeing with Chloe. "I know somewhere where we can go. To practice. It's nice and secluded. Last thing we want is to wind up on the local news. Or worse: Facebook."

Chloe chuckled. "Agreed. And hella sweet! This is gonna kick ass, Max. I've already got a ton of ideas. We're gonna turn you into a regular fucking Ethan Hunt."

"Alright," Max grinned. "So long as you give me my missions on tapes that explode after playing."

* * *

An hour later Max stood about fifty yards down range from Chloe, who trained her cell phone on Max with giddy excitement. Max had directed them to a remote park that provided a meadow bordered on all sides with tall trees and shrubs. It was still fairly early in the morning, so they had the field to themselves.

They had already completed a small battery of tests: first they worked out Max's maximum rewind time. Conclusion: about five minutes. Next, Chloe had bound Max's wrists using some lace, simulating handcuffs. The restraints followed in the rewind-Max couldn't find a way out of them. But the next test was what Chloe was really excited about.

"Okay Max," Chloe yelled. "Punch it! Or, wait, did you do it already? Fuck, this is confusing."

"Cool your heels, minion," Max yelled back from across the field. "Okay! Here goes!"

Chloe held her breath in anticipation. If this works, then from _her_ perspective, Max should-

"BOO!" Chloe heard from right beside her ear. The phone ejected into the air as both her feet left the ground in a started jump.

"Holy _shit_ Max," she exclaimed. "That was so fucking totally amazeballs. Screw the contents of my pockets, you shoulda just started with _that_ back at the diner."

Max backed off, a little smug with her ability to impress Chloe. "Right, that wouldn't have attracted any attention at all."

Chloe waved off Max's retort and collected her phone, which had collected some mildew from the wet grass. She stopped the recording, and played it back for both her and Max. Both their eyes widened with wonder as they saw Max, far away, suddenly _disappear_. And then, of course, shaky cam as the phone flew from Chloe's fingers.

"Like, I kinda reasoned that's what would happen. But holy _fuckballs_ that was cool. You're a _teleporter_ , Max. There ain't a ninja in the world that's got shit on _your_ ass."

"Well remember I still actually have to _get_ from point A to point B, Chloe. It's not magic."

Chloe creased her eyebrows at Max's comment, crossing her arms and giving her best " _really_?" stare.

"Okay," Max relented. "It's a little bit magic. But this super has her limits, Chloe. I've hit them before, like when I tried to save Kate. Or when I passed out in the junkyard."

"I hear you Max. Which is why we've gotta figure out what those limits _are_ , so you can ration your power."

"I knew I kept you around for a reason," Max said as she bumped against Chloe.

"Someone's gotta be the voice of sanity around here," Chloe smirked in reply.

Max felt an urge to take a selfie, so she pulled her camera out and leaned her against Chloe's body. Chloe wrapped herself around Max, leaning in for the photo. Picture taken, they remained standing close, listening to the birds chirp in the surrounding woods. Her eye tracked the movement of several small forest critters and felt the desire to capture them all in film. _Just imagine the shots I could get by using my_ rewind, she thought. _Like that squirrel at school. Just walk up, ready the shot, rewind, and cheese! I could be the best nature photographer, like, EVAR._

She felt Chloe spin her around. Calming hands gripped her shoulders, squeezing a bit, but giving the feeling of safety and security. Chloe grinned down at her, enthused with their progress and what it might mean for the future. She brushed away one of Max's bangs, looking straight into her eyes. "God. Maxine Caulfield, I fucking lov-"

Max didn't have time to blink before a small amount of Chloe's blood splattered onto her face through the hole in her head. Lifelessly, Chloe's body fell into Max's, tumbling them both to the ground. Max wanted to scream, but found there was no air. She wanted to cry, but felt oddly numb. Instantly, she knew this was not reality. Or put more correctly, is a reality soon be forgotten by all but her.

In a daze, Max rolled Chloe's body to the side and leaned up to try and locate their assailant. Towards the edge of the woods, she caught the sight of a large man. He was dressed in a black suit, wearing black sunshades, and held a pistol with a rather long looking barrel. He leveled the gun directly at Max. Max could swear he drew a large smile across his face as his finger wrapped the trigger.


	4. A Repertoire of Horror

The frozen dirt beneath Tom Mandaver's boot crushed slightly from the pressure as he stepped from his vehicle, which was pulled up to next to that annoying punk's truck. Smirking, Tom pulled his sidearm and calmly attached the silencer. The weapon felt good in his hands, a reminder of the power he wielded. A step above the law. Murder without consequence, so long as it was done in an intelligent fashion.

"Schmidt!" he called to his partner, who remained in the car. "Do me a favor and call into HQ, tell them we're initiating the operation."

From inside the vehicle, Peter rolled his eyes. Lethargically, he leaned out the opened window to answer. "I'm not your bitch, Mandaver. Do it yourself. You're so goddamn eager for this anyway..."

"Fuck you, Peter," Tom shot back, his voice turning cold. "You can be sure Prescott will hear about your attitude."

Tom leaned back in his chair, staring at the fuzzy ceiling of the SUV's interior. "Prescott doesn't pay me for my attitude. So. Any day now, hotshot. Sooner we get this done, sooner we can get our asses home."

"Amen to that," Tom mumbled as he searched for his phone.

Peter watched his partner move into the foliage with the grace of a true professional, avoiding any steps that might cause a sound. Once out of sight, Peter sighed and stepped out of the vehicle to stretch his legs. _This is such bullshit,_ he thought while scanning the clouds for any hint of blue. Like most days in the pacific northwest, an oppressive layer of grey silenced the sky. Calmly, he lit a cigarette and leaned back against the car, while examining the blue haired girl's truck.

 _Fuck,_ he cursed to himself. _Gonna suck having to dispose of that truck. But thems the rules. Leave no trace._

The minutes passed slowly, each dragging on more than the last. Finally, a gunshot rang out over the open space. A previously invisible flock of birds took flight a moment later, rustling the mass of trees around him.

 _Wait a tick. Tom was using his silencer. What the fuck?_

A moment later Peter's training kicked in and he took cover behind his vehicle, sidearm drawn and pointed upwards close to his chest. Carefully, he inched outwards, following his partner's steps into the woods. An eerie silence filled the void after the gunshot, which had scattered most of the forest creatures and birds. Peter cursed as he felt his heart begin to thump. _Keep it cool. Just a pair of teenagers. Mandaver was a professional, but every idiot gets lucky. Still. There wasn't any intel about them being armed..._

After a small eternity of creeping forwards, Peter swore again as his partner's body came into view. Mandaver lay face down in the grass, just outside the protection of the forest cover. In the middle of the clearing, Peter caught sight of the two targets. The two girls. The shorter one was holding the other tightly. The taller, blue haired girl-Chloe Price-appeared to be in a state of complete shock. He instantly registered the six shooter held in her hand, which was aimlessly pointed at the ground.

 _Gotta say, I'm_ _impressed,_ Peter thought. _Like,_ really _impressed. Girl must be a fucking marksman to make that shot, at that distance and with a handgun. And to beat Mandaver on the draw. Hell, now I want to buy her a drink. Mandaver had it coming. Goddamnit. This is seriously not how I saw my life at thirty five years._

His blood froze as he made direct eye contact with the smaller girl. The brunette. Maxine, he recollected. _Shit. Better act fast. That might've been a lucky shot from her friend, but it's not something I want to bet on._ He quickly raised his weapon to the taller girl, squinting down the sights to aim the shot in a practiced, fluid motion. And then something odd happened. The "Maxine" girl vanished.

In his day, Peter had thought he'd seen it all. He'd fought screamers who charged into battle with wanton carelessness. Snipers with cunning precision and guile. But when he saw Mandaver's gun disappear off the ground, and felt the cold hard steel of a barrel pressed against the back of his head, Peter knew this was something else. _Outside context problem_ , was all he could think.

* * *

"Drop. The weapon," Max ordered in the most menacing tone she could muster. Which, if she was being honest with herself, was probably not that threatening. Still, _she_ was the one who had the drop on this man, who was hunched down, aiming his weapon at Chloe. Like his deceased partner, the man wore a pristine black suit, but no tacky shades. Unlike Chloe's kill, who was a gargantuan behemoth of a man, this second assassin was leaner and showed signs of a well toned muscular frame through the suit's fabric. Max had gotten a clean look at his face on her mad dash across the field. The man appeared to be middle aged, with faint traces of worry lines creased his rugged face, none of which betrayed any sign of emotion.

 _Come on, dude. Just drop the damn gun. Please. I don't want to kill anyone._ Max thought desperately. Deep down, though, she knew she had the will to pull that trigger. After all, what was one more life? She'd sacrificed thousands for Chloe. And here was a clear and present danger, threatening Chloe's life in the most direct manner possible. Nevertheless, this was different from her decision up on that cliff side. _Inaction_ had caused the destruction of Arcadia Bay. Now, only _action_ might save Chloe's life. And it would have to be decisive. Max knew she was almost out of juice. She could feel the cold strain of blood running down her nostrils and the steady thumping in her head that always accompanied the overuse of her powers.

To her relief, the man dropped his weapon onto the grass, slowly moving his hands up into the air. Max backed off, carefully, keeping the dead man's gun that she had grabbed during her frantic jaunt across the field trained on their assailant. _Holy shit,_ she found herself thinking. _This is so fucked up. Just last week my biggest concern was whether or not to submit a_ photograph _for a_ contest _. Now I'm holding a gun on a freaking_ hitman _. I... I never wanted this! All I want is to be left alone, damnit!_

Max did her best to hold it together. The past fifteen or so minutes, for her at least (at this point, she wasn't sure how much "real time" had actually passed), were fraught with the most horrible events imaginable. Chloe getting shot. Over, and over, and over again. Max was terrified Chloe might pass out: more than a small amount of Chloe's blood was plastered onto her face and clothing. If she understood how her powers worked correctly, then that meant the blood on her was blood no longer in Chloe's body. _So fucked up_ , was all Max could think. But she could see Chloe, and Chloe remained standing, looking dazed and confused. _God, I'm so sorry, Chloe. I'm so fucking sorry._ Max had to summon a strength of will she didn't know she had to keep from screaming in frustration.

It had taken an _eternity_ for Chloe to get the shot right. Even from the beginning, after Chloe's first death, Max had felt more than a bit drained. She couldn't go back more than thirty seconds. But again and again that fucking bald-headed freak had put a bullet in Chloe. With increasing panic, Max kept rewinding, telling Chloe to aim up. To the left. To the right. To the other right! When Chloe finally landed the shot, Max couldn't believe the horror had ended. Her head felt like it was about to cave in on itself, imploding her consciousness into dark oblivion. Instead she grabbed a bewildered Chloe, no doubt confused and amazed she had made such an improbable shot at the turn of a dime. Max gripped her so tightly, tears streaming from her face, mixing in with the layers of blood that had accumulated. For the first time, she was _glad_ Chloe had kept David's gun, and that she had it on her. Even if she had kept it a secret from Max.

And then Max saw it. Her photographer's eyes caught that faint movement, that subtle shifting of position. She knew this wasn't over yet. Spotting the spare gun by the freshly deceased assassin's body, Max summoned every last bit of strength she had and rushed forward as fast as her short legs would carry her. She saw the man train his gun on her. Rewind, continue the sprint. The man looking shocked, but shifting his aim with professional fluidity. Rewind, keep up the pressure. Rewind. As she apparated closer and closer to the their attacker, his surprise grew with increasing intensity. Finally she was able to grab the dead man's weapon and position herself behind the new target. Rewind.

Chloe finally caught onto what must have happened, and quickly made her way towards them with the spry agility granted by her longer legs.

"Get ready to _die_ asshole," Chloe shouted as she skidded to a stop in front of the second hitman.

"Chloe, wait!" Max cried. "Just, just hold on. A second. Let me try something."

"Max, these fuckers just tried to _kill_ us. And... _holy shit_ , Max! Your... your face, your clothes. You're covered in blood! Is that..." Chloe was no idiot. It didn't take her long to put the pieces together. "Max... how many times did I..."

Grinding her teeth in frustration, Max shot Chloe an intense look. "Too many," Max replied as tears began to form in her eyes. "Just, _please_ , stay cool, alright? I got this. Please, you have trust me."

Taking a slow breath, Chloe lowered her gun, all the while maintaining a safe distance from the man who was now holding his hands high above his head. "Okay Max. I trust you. What's the plan?"

* * *

 _Well, gotta admit. Not how I thought I would kick the bucket,_ was Peter's immediate thought after observing the two, again, _scrawny teenage girls_ , debate over what to do with their victory. Their triumph over two professional assassins, both of whom boasted years of experience under their belts. He was ex-special forces, for Christ's sake. While he wasn't bemoaning the fact that he would no longer have to murder two innocents, he had certainly thought his last moments would be, well, more glamorous.

 _Still, something more than meets the eye is going on here. I could've sworn I saw that damn brunette_ flicker _over here. And what her friend just said... "how many times?" What the hell did she mean by that?_

But it was all pointless. Peter had lost, and he knew it. He hung his head, staring at the ground, expecting it to be the last thing he would ever see. "Listen, can we just get this over with?" he asked. _Prescott better hold up his end of the bargain. As long as they're safe, then I'm okay with this. I'm so sorry, Brenda..._

"We want answers," the shorter girl replied, keeping his partner's gun held towards his head.

"Then you'd better just kill me," Peter sighed.

Another strange moment passed. Peter's animal instincts, that had kept him alive through thick and thin, told him something was amiss. That something fundamentally _wrong_ had just occurred. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight, and goosebumps shivered down his spine.

"Peter," Max said.

 _What. The absolute. Fuck. How does she know my name?_

"Listen, Peter. Peter Schmidt," Max continued. "I know you don't want to be here, doing this. You're just looking after the people you love, right? I _get_ that. You have _no idea_ how much I get that. But we're in the same boat! Prescott is threatening us both! I know he's holding your family hostage. Your wife Brenda. Your son, Josh. We don't have to be enemies, Peter. We could work together. We can end this nightmare. _Please_. I don't want to kill you. I don't want anyone else to die."

Peter could hear the desperation in her voice. He'd heard it before. That honest, railing drill of a person at the end of their line, desperate for one last push towards hope. And then the meaning of her words caught up with him. _This is_ _impossible,_ he asserted to himself. _How could this... this scrawny, teenage, nothing of a person, know all this? Prescott keeps his information compartmentalized to hell and back. How could he have a leak? How could a fucking_ art _student know this kind of detail about my life? Then again... how could an art student teleport? How could a punk bimbo make impossible shot against a trained assassin? I'm... fuck. This is fucked. This is so completely, holistically, and utterly fucked. What the hell did you get us into, Sean?_

"Max, the fuck? Did you..." Chloe said with surprise. Then her expression changed, as if realizing some epiphany. " _Nice_ , dude," she remarked with a grin. "But, I don't... I don't think he's buying it, Max. Besides! We got nothing to feel guilty about! They tried to _kill_ us. Hell, they did! Repeatedly!"

 _The hell is she on about,_ Peter thought.

Chloe raised her gun again, pointing it directly at Peter's head. Her expression hardened, eyes creasing with focused concentration. "Just say the word, Max. I'll do it. You don't have to. This'll be on me, alright?"

Peter's head began to thump softly as he processed his situation. _This Maxine girl knows everything. Every last goddamn detail. How is that possible? Massively more informed than we thought? Or, fuck it, a telepath? Which is impossible. But, as they say, seeing is believing. If this is real, then could she... could this be a way out?_

Since trying to leave Sean's employment more than a year ago, Peter had done nothing but regret his decision to sign on in the first place. It had seemed like a great gig: the requirements were high, but the pay was set to match. Enough to provide a good life for his family with the skill set he had. It was only several months in that he realized his mistake. When he tried to quit, Sean made one of his not-so-subtle threats. Directed not towards him, but instead, his family. Peter didn't know exactly what Sean meant, and he didn't want to find out. By that point Peter had seen his fair share of what his employer was capable of.

"Wait," he interjected. "Just, hold on, a second."

Both girls gave each other a look, surprised and hopeful.

"You're... You're right. I'm no friend of Prescott's. But if we're going to make some sort of... _deal_... then I need assurance. Do you understand?"

Max was the first to respond. "We'll keep you family safe, Peter. It'll be our first priority. But then, you _have_ to help us get close to Sean. And you need to tell us everything you know. Like what happened to David Madsen."

Peter observed the taller girl stiffen a little at the mention of the security guard's name. _Shit. Right, Madsen was her step-dad, or something. Well fuck. They're not going to like what I have to say about that. So I guess they_ don't _know everything? Jesus tap-dancing-christ this is confusing. Talk about "out of left field."_

Peter slowly rose to his feet, eyeing both girls carefully as he did so. "Listen. I don't know what's going on here, how you two are able to do what you do, or know what you know. But I'm betting it has something to do with why Prescott wants you dead." He paused to take a short breath, eyeing Max carefully. "In my seventeen years of experience, I've never seen someone move like you, girl. That was truly something else."

In an earnest gesture, Peter held out his hand. Max took it, and they shook. _God help me,_ he thought. _No going back now._

* * *

Minutes later the trio stood by their vehicles, deciding how to proceed. Max knew they had to hurry, but she felt a powerful reluctance to take any further action. More than anything she wanted to clean herself, curl up into Chloe's lap, cry, and then sleep for a million years. But she knew that right now, helping their new ally was in their best interests. He could lead them straight to Prescott. He was also trained in this sort of shit. His experience could be a massive boon to their efforts.

 _This is so fucked,_ she thought. _Just earlier today I was worrying about going back to high school. Now I've got half a pint of Chloe's blood splattered over myself._

On the walk back Chloe had bumped up beside her, giving her an eye full of worry. "H-hey there, road warrior," she had stammered. "Looking ba-bad ass."

Max wanted nothing more than to throw herself around Chloe, cry, and apologize over and over again. At how she had let her die so many times over the past hour. Over the past week. But it would've been weird-awkward, to say the least-with Peter as a witness. Max knew she had to keep it bottled in. There would be time later for emotional breakdowns. Plus, she needed a shower.

Still, Max had to reply to Chloe with something. Trudging forward, she gave Chloe a sad look. In a small voice, she pointed to herself. "It's _your blood_ , Chloe. It's... I've..." Max had to stop, realizing that she was starting to hyperventilate. _Now's not the time, dumbass. Not when you've got Mr. Hardcore Assassin right there._

Chloe gave a solemn nod. Without permission she grabbed Max as they walked, pulling her close. Smearing the blood on Max's face across her chest. Chloe didn't care.

But now they had to decide what to do next. Peter wanted to leave immediately and check on his family. Chloe wanted to move her truck somewhere safe. Right out of the gate, their alliance was showing wear and tear. Max decided to play the mediator.

"Look, Peter. Your Family's in Centralia, right? Well, we need to head west regardless of where we go first. Chloe can drive her truck, I'll ride with you." Max had to hold her hand up to stop Chloe's immediate reaction to her suggestion. "We drop the truck off by my parent's house, where they can look after it. Then we head south, and find your family. Okay?"

"Max, there's no way I'm letting you ride alone with Mr. Killface here. We don't know if we can trust him!"

Max sighed. Chloe had a point, but there was no other way. Not if they wanted to move the truck. Which they really should, seeing as there was a dead body they didn't have the time to dispose of. Max had already ruled out the possibility of letting Peter drive alone. Too risky. She needed to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't have second thoughts. If he turned traitor she could use her rewind. Though that might be dangerous in a moving vehicle. There was always the fallback of using a focus. Though she remained loathe to do that.

"I gave you my _word_ , girl," Peter reprimanded, approaching Chloe with his superior height and bulk. Undeterred, Chloe arched her back and raised her head upwards, cocking it slightly in defiance.

"That supposed to mean something to me, Pres-bitch?" Chloe shot back.

"Cool it, you two," Max commanded. "Chloe, I know you don't like it. I don't like it either. But it's the way it's gotta be. It's only a twenty minute ride. We'll be fine."

Chloe pouted, backing off while crossing her arms and staring at the ground. "Fine," she muttered, kicking at some dirt with her boot.

 _God, I'm sorry, Chloe. I swear I'll make it up to you soon. Just, hang in there. For a little longer. We just have to make sure Peter's family is safe. I wonder if we should involve the police_ now? _Surely Prescott's influence with the law doesn't reach up here._

She decided to ask their new compatriot. "Peter, should we call the cops and report your partner's body? Tell them he tried to murder us?"

Peter stifled a laugh. "I take it this is your first rodeo. No, girl, that wouldn't pan out well. Already we're losing precious minutes standing around arguing. You can bet that as we speak a clean up crew is on its way. If my partner followed protocol, he definitely reported in with headquarters before trying to take you two out. It's been enough time that they've assumed we're both dead. Or otherwise failed our mission. So go ahead, call the cops. You'll get to learn all about what happens when you lie to the law. Because by the time the cops show up, there won't be shit-all for them to discover. But your girlfriend is right, I guess we do need to move that truck. God knows what the cleanup crew might do with it."

"Fuck," Max swore under her breath. She brought her hands to her temples, rubbing in a soft motion to try and ease the roaring pressure in her head. _I'm running on fumes here_ , she thought. _After our practice session, saving Chloe, sprinting across the field, and going groundhog day on Peter, I'm lucky I haven't passed out. But if what Peter says is true then we need to get moving. No rest for the wicked..._

"Chloe," Max said as she closed the distance between them. Seconds later they held each other in a tight embrace, neither wanting to let go.

"I'd kiss ya, but..." Chloe whispered into Max's ear. _That's right_ , Max remembered. _I'm smothered in her blood right now. God, we are such a fucking mess._

They both heard Peter cough uncomfortably, and reluctantly ended the hug, pulling away from each other slowly. Chloe gripped Max by her forearms, moving her back a bit. "Max... I love you Maxine Caulfield. Don't you dare forget that, alright?"

Max uttered a sob mixed in with a happy laugh, feeling fuzzy at Chloe's words, despite the horror they had just experienced. "I love you too, Chloe Price. And stop being so melodramatic. I'll see you in like twenty minutes, alright?"

Chloe gave Max a look that communicated worry and fear. Like she would never see Max again if she let go of the frail girl. Without another word Chloe drew Max in again, this time placing a kiss on her head.

* * *

"Sir, come and take a look at this," Kevin's underling yelled from down the field. He stood up, having determined Tom Mandaver's cause of death. Gunshot wound to the head. Kevin headed over to see what the commotion was. His subordinate held a cell phone, miraculously still unlocked. On it, a video played in loop. It showed one of the girls standing far away, and then simply _disappearing_. Kevin couldn't help but feel a bit perturbed at the imagery of it.

"Get that video back to headquarters. Verify its authenticity," he ordered.

Kevin reviewed the facts in his head. One of their best, albeit crazy, assassins killed in action. A waif little girl that could teleport. An incredibly dangerous operative, presumably gone rogue.

"Jesus," Kevin muttered to himself. "What a fucking day."

* * *

Max kept her eyes focused on Chloe's truck from her seat in Peter's SUV. Somehow, just seeing the back of Chloe's short blue hair made her feel better. Knowing that she was alive.

"Here," Peter said, handing Max a bottle of water. "You can find some paper towels in the back seat. Get yourself cleaned off-you look like you just wandered off the set of a zombie horror movie."

Still dazed, Max took the bottle and searched around for the tissue. Several minutes later she had managed to get most of the blood off, though her clothes seemed thoroughly stained.

"Thanks," she mumbled, returning her attention to Chloe's truck.

"Maxine," Peter started.

"It's Max, never Maxine," Max quickly corrected, as if on auto-pilot. _What the shit do I care right now about that,_ she thought.

Peter gave a short chuckle. "Alright, Max. You need to tell me what exactly is going on."

It was Max's turn to laugh. "Funny, wanted to ask you the same question!"

Peter shot Max a hard look. "I'm serious. What-precisely-are you capable of? There were some things your partner said back there that were very... interesting. But if I'm going to be able to help you, I need to know what my assets are. Clearly, you can do things normal people can't. And believe me, I've seen it all. So help me out here, Max."

Max bit her lip, unsure of how much she should say. _He has a point. If I tell him how my rewind works, then he might be able to craft a super-spy plan to bring down Sean. Then again, my rewind has been just between me and Chloe. It's... it's our secret. How would she feel if I just went and told this dude, who we barely know? I guess telling him about the rewind wouldn't be_ too _bad. But there's no way I'm spilling the beans about the photograph focus. Or freezing time, not that I can do that on command anyway._

"This will sound completely crazy," Max started.

"Try me," Peter insisted.

"Okay. I can rewind time," she explained plainly, as if it was obvious.

A silence fell on the cabin, with Peter chewing over Max's words, trying to decide if she was bullshitting him.

"So, you're telling me you're not a teleporter. Or a telepath? God, that would be easier to believe."

"I can rewind time," Max repeated. "I can't demonstrate it here, because my position in _space_ doesn't change after the rewind."

Peter's eyebrows shot up, his mind racing with the implications of the revelation. "Holy shit, that makes sense," he said, more to himself than Max. "Okay, let's say I believe you. When-"

Peter cut himself off mid sentence, the road suddenly stealing his full attention. Both the SUV and Chloe's truck were headed down a narrow, single lane stretch of highway, bordered on either side by thick forest. Peter had been maintained a fair bit of stopping distance between them and Chloe's truck, as the roads were still slick from last night's rain. The gap between them was quickly filled by two black SUVs, both of which had come up behind them and had signaled to pass. But instead of passing them, Max and Peter now found themselves cut off from Chloe, with the two new vehicles sandwiched between them.

"Damnit," Peter cursed. "Hold on Max, this is gonna get rough."

"What?" Max asked, turning her head to face Peter. Moments later the g-forces of Peter slamming the breaks catapulted Max from her chair and into the seat belt. The vehicle in front of them had come to a sudden stop, intentionally causing a high speed collision. Max's head snapped back into her neck rest, and the world went black.

* * *

Hearing was the first sense to return. Max could make out the faint sound of a fire. The grunting noises of someone working near her. Vision brought along with it a sudden headache, forcing Max to shut her eyes quickly.

"Good, you're back," Peter exclaimed. "Was getting worried about you for a second."

Max forced herself to open her eyes again. She was lying down in the backseat of their car. The side door was torn off completely. The front windshield was blasted to hell, both airbags out and deflated. Carefully, Max hoisted herself up into a sitting position, while rubbing her head.

"What the fuck happened," she grumbled.

"They found us," Peter replied simply as he went back to work. " _Shit_ ," he swore. Max squinted to bring Peter into focus. He was outside, working on another car with its front hood up. "Just need a few more minutes, then we can take this car and get the fuck out of here."

Still feeling like reality had that dream-like quality to it, Max forced herself to examine the scene. Several bodies were strewn out across the highway. They all showed signs of bullet wounds. Peter was cursing and muttering, his torso out of sight as he went about the repairs. Looking up, she noticed Chloe's truck, which had been diverted off the road. The whole of its front was smashed into a tree. _Chloe!_ Max thought suddenly. Without hesitation, and despite the screams from her body to stay where she was, Max stumbled out of the car and began to wander towards the truck.

"She's not there," Peter explained while keeping his attention focused the only car that remained in somewhat drive-able condition. "They snagged her in the ensuing firefight. As you can see," he said, waving his hand at the dead bodies,"I was able to hold them off. But I'm sorry, Max. They got her."

Max stood dumbstruck for a moment, unwilling to believe Peter's story. _No, no way_ , she denied. _Chloe's... she's... but..._ The dam inside Max burst, and she fell to the ground, screaming as tears freely rolled down her face.

"Whoa, hey, hey," Peter consoled, sticking his head up from under the hood. "Max, it'll be okay. If they wanted to hurt her, they would've. But they didn't. Something's changed, Max. Prescott doesn't want you dead anymore. He wants you alive. That's the only explanation. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation. We'd be dead."

Max allowed herself to be calmed by Peter's words but she said nothing in reply. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Max weighed her options. _Okay. So, there's the photo I took just before we left. That's not a bad "restore" point... But still, if what Peter says is true, then we're all still alive. If I jump back, will there be any guarantees of that? For all I know, maybe this is the best possible timeline. Maybe we wind up dead in all the others! Maybe when I exit the focus... that'll be it! Show's over, folks. Say goodnight! Fuck. Plus, what if I really am leaving behind a copy of this timeline? Would I be ditching a Max stranded here, powerless and alone?_

Max begrudgingly decided to keep this timeline, at least for now. She could always go back if there truly was no hope. Her wanton focusing last Friday was excusable-she already knew Chloe was dead. Until she was certain of that fact, she resolved to keep the focus as a weapon of last resort.

"We have to save her," Max decided.

Peter paused, looking up again. "We had a deal, Max," he reminded her with an even voice. "My family is in serious danger. Now, I can help you get Chloe back. But only if my family is safe."

Max felt conflicting emotions tear at her heart. On the one hand, she couldn't _bear_ the thought of _not_ immediately working towards saving Chloe. It had been her modus operandi for so long now, no other course of action made sense. But she did promise Peter. And she knew getting Chloe back without his help was a fool's errand. They could have her anywhere by now! And what if they used Chloe against her? No, she needed Peter's support. Her heart felt sick saying it, full of reluctance and self loathing, but she spoke the words anyway. "Okay, Peter. Let's save your family."

 _Be strong, Chloe. I swear we're coming for you. You just need to hold out a little longer. I love you so much. And there's no reality where we don't wind up together. I won't allow it._

* * *

Chloe grunted as she pulled away from the goon sitting to her left, only to crash a bit more to the goon sitting to her right. She was reluctantly sitting bitch between the two, with the driver sitting solo up front. In the ensuing chaos after the crash, she found herself hoisted from her truck and stuffed into one of these asshole's vehicles. It sounded like they were trying to get to Max, but Peter held them off. _God bless you Peter_ , she thought. _That was so fucking badass. That dude single handedly murdered at least four of these assholes._

When their attackers realized the tides were turned against them, the survivors piled into Chloe's car and they drove off in a hurry. _At least Max is safe. Last I saw she was still passed out in Peter's car. But we're still here. I guess that means Max didn't use the photo? Or... maybe she did. And we're the "left behind" universe. Fuck. I can't think like that. Chin up, girl._

Smiling, Chloe decided to banter. "You guys are so hella fucked. You don't get what you've done, do you? Who you're messing with?" She tried to struggle out from the seat again, but both men held her arms tightly.

The goon to her right, _Pigfucker McScroteballs, I'll call him_ , chuckled with a deep, reverberating rumble. He smiled and looked over Chloe to his partner. "Quite the mouth on this one, huh?"

His partner, _Prolapsed Kittycock,_ Chloe decided, responded with a smile. "She's _cute_ , though. Maybe when we get to the safe house we can fill her word hole with something." He gripped his crotch tightly, making thrusting motions, as Pigfucker laughed in response.

" _Enough_ , you two," the driver ordered with authority. "She's not to be touched until the boss says so. Is that clear?"

Pigfucker gave the driver a mock salute. "Aye-aye, sir!" he consented with a sarcastic tone. His partner chuckled and gave Chloe another hungry look that sent shivers down her spine. He leaned in close for a whisper. "You're safe for now, girlie. But once we get that magic friend of yours, I got first dibs."

Chloe had always presented a hard front, a false sense of bravado. For the most part it had worked: skeevy guys had kept their distance. She had always maintained an air of confidence about her that fed back in on itself, bolstering the image she had built until she truly internalized it. But the facade began to crumble as Chloe realized just how bad this situation was. She stopped struggling against the two men gripping her arms, going limp, and stared into her lap.

 _Max... I fucking_ need _you Max. I'm... I'm scared..._

A short while later they pulled into a sketch looking motel off the highway. They appeared to be the only customers. One of the men entered the main office, returning promptly with keys in hand. Prolapsed Kittycock yanked Chloe's arm, pulling her from the vehicle in a violent motion. Chloe could feel the blood pumping in her head as terror began to boil within her. Their short trip to the room seemed to take an eternity.

"Don't bother screaming," Pigfucker explained. "Boss rented out every room. We're the only ones here. And the owner is a friend."

In a daze, Chloe allowed herself to be herded into a nondescript motel room containing the standard amenities one might expect: two beds, a TV, bathroom, nightstands, and a lingering stuffy smell that reeked of poorly and hastily employed cleaning products. Mr. Kittycock threw Chloe onto one of the beds and and took a seat himself, while Pigfucker went to relieve himself in the restroom. The third man, obviously higher up in the food chain, was already on his phone, talking quietly.

"Yes sir. Very good sir. Immediately sir," he complied into his phone. Hanging up, he opened his briefcase and pulled out an ultra-slim laptop, placing it on the bed in front of Chloe. Within minutes a video call was initiated and Chloe found herself staring at Mr. Prescott himself. She recognized the face from newspaper articles.

"Ms. Price. Pleasure to make the acquaintance," he began. "Let's cut right to the chase, shall we? You are going to tell me everything about what your little girlfriend is capable of. Don't try to lie to us, we've seen the video."

 _Fuck,_ Chloe thought. _That's right! My god damn phone. Did I leave it back in that field? I must have... how else would they know that Max has powers?_

"Eat me," Chloe replied without hesitation.

Sean chuckled, causing the rest of the men in the room to laugh with him. Sean's expression grew suddenly serious, and he motioned to Pigfucker with a nod. The man grinned. Kittycock forcefully held Chloe's arm and hand to the bed, while Pigfucker retrieved a tool from his bag. A pair of pliers. He began to whistle as he positioned the pliers onto one of her finger's nails.

"Now. Ms. Price, I do detest restoring to... barbaric... measures, but I am not afraid to do what needs to be done. This is your last chance. So I'll ask you again: _tell us everything you about Maxine Caulfield's abilities._ "

Chloe hated herself for starting to cry, but she couldn't help it. She wasn't cut out for this shit! She was just some wannabe "hard" girl from a no-name podunk town. She knew she would cave within seconds. And she doubted Max would want her to suffer.

 _Think, dumbass. What can I tell them that they'll believe? Oh, holy shit! That's right!_

"Stop!" Chloe yelled, just as the scumbag with the pliers had tightened their grip on her fingernail. "Please, just please, I'm not hardcore like this, I'll tell you everything!"

Sean leaned back in his leather recliner, a small smirk forming on his face. "Of course. Do, please continue."

Chloe gulped, and began her lie. It would have to be convincing. "Max, she's, she's a teleporter. She can move her body across distances. Instantly."

The room went quiet for a moment as the men all exchanged looks, seemingly convinced by her performance. Sean was the first to speak. "We need _details_ , Ms. Price. Tell us everything you know."

 _Shit. Right. Okay. Time to fallback on my tweenie anime years_.

"About fifty yards, sir. She needs direct line of sight, there can't be anything blocking the path. She can only do about five in a row without resting. Using her power gives her headaches." Chloe knew she was rambling, but judging from her audience's reaction, they appeared to be buying it.

"Thank you, Ms. Price. This has been most informative." Sean motioned his head towards his foreman in the room, who promptly closed the laptop shut.

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief when the pliers left her fingernail. _God. I hope I didn't give up anything useful..._

"Well that was a hoot and a hollar," Pigfucker said to no one in particular. "Can we please have some fun now?"

"Shut the fuck up," the man in charge ordered. "Not until we get the other girl. Then, I could give a flying fuck."

* * *

Max awoke to a soft grip on her shoulder. She had passed out on the drive down to Centralia, catching up on some much needed sleep. Her dreams had been haunted, filled with situations of Chloe being forced from her. "Chloe?" Max instinctively asked looking around for any sign of her girlfriend. That perhaps, just maybe, it had all been a bad dream.

"No, it's me, Max. We're almost here," Peter explained. "Be on your guard, I don't know what to expect."

Shoving away the remaining fog of sleep, Max steeled herself as best she could. _This is_ _insane,_ she thought. _I'm not an action hero! I'm a fucking photographer, and an amateur one at that!_

Peter turned into a nice looking neighborhood, filled with three story craftsman style houses that must cost a fortune. Max jumped when an SUV rushed past them, taking a hard turn onto the arterial before slamming on the gas and disappearing down the street.

"Shit," Max heard Peter swear. Without hesitation he floored the gas pedal, sending them flying towards their destination in complete disregard for the posted speed limit. Within seconds they reached his house and he pulled a hard stop in his driveway, wasting no time in hopping out of the vehicle. Max's heart sunk when she saw that the front door was left ajar.

"No," Peter said to himself. "No no no no no." He quickly disappeared from sight, rushing into his house. Max exited the vehicle and slowly approached the entrance, terrified of what she might find inside. She found Peter on his knees, crying, holding a woman in his lap, with a free hand on a young boy's shoulder. The kid didn't look older than nine. Both mother and child had bullet wounds in their heads and lay in a small pool of blood. Despite having seen so many dead bodies just earlier today, Max felt queasy to her stomach. She stumbled over, grabbing the side of a couch for support.

 _He's just a child. This is so messed up. They executed a little kid! I... I have to fix this..._

Max was terrified at the thought. What it meant she had to do. But standing there, watching Peter morn the death of his family, moved her to action.

She hunched down on her knees beside Peter. "Peter," she said, while trying to make eye contact. "Give me your gun."

"What?" he replied between sobs. A moment later realization dawned across his face. He slowly removed his sidearm, disabling the safety, and placed into Max's hand. Meeting her eyes, he pleaded, "Fix this. Please, Max, I'm begging you. Fix this."


	5. Innocence Lost

Max's gut churned rebelliously from the promise she just gave Peter, who now displayed no sign of the hardened hitman she had come to know over the past few hours. The man was broken, distraught, and more than ready to conclude this horror of a reality. As always, the gun in Max's hand felt wrong, just like Chloe's six shooter. If the past few hours had done anything, they had at the very least solidified Max's abhorrence to the weapons. She took one last look at the shattered family: Peter clutching his wife, running his hand over her face while muttering incoherently.

 _It's time_ , Max decided. _Peter doesn't need to suffer this torment any longer. But once I start, there's no going back. I'm going to have to shoot someone. Kill... or be killed. I never wanted to so literally adopt my "Max Mad" nickname._ The nauseating thought filled Max with dread. Even _if_ whoever did this deserved it (and considering the two dead bodies on the ground, he or she most definitely did) actually _shooting_ someone was a line she never wanted to cross.

But before she could raise her hand, and commit herself down this path, a brief memory from her childhood surfaced, unbidden and unannounced. She was in Chloe's back yard, and had climbed to the top of their "pirate ship" swing set, keeping a look out for possible plunder on the horizon. Normally this was Chloe's job, but Max had begged for an opportunity. "A hoy!" Max had yelled, looking down at Chloe, who reciprocated a ferocious grin. "Thar be skallywags ahead, ripe for the plucking," she attempted in her best pirate accent. Chloe had burst into laughter, unable to keep in character. "You are such a dork," she ridiculed, wiping away a happy tear as her eyes lingered on Max. Max didn't realize it at the time, but she understood it now. That _look_. That underwritten meaning packaged in her sly smile as their eyes met. _Ever since back then, you've loved me. And then I hurt you, so much. I'm so sorry, Chloe... Forgive me._

Refocusing on the present, Max steeled herself, and raised her hand.

The now-familiar warping of space and time flushed through Max's senses while the steady drum of a headache began to build. Defined lines and objects became blurry, their desire to traverse forward along their proper dimensional axis crushed by her force of will. She witnessed the mother and child lying on the ground, lifeless and still. A worry started to grow in Max's head when nothing changed. Would she be able to go back far enough? Had they let too much time pass?

Max was starting to panic when an older, slinky, snake of a man, appeared through the front door. With a calm grace, he waltzed backwards into the room, as if nothing of consequence had transpired. He was tall, slender, and had the gait of a buzzard approaching fresh roadkill-his long neck craning down with a mischievous grin on his face. Max spotted a gun in his hand, brushing up against his long black trench coat. Finally, the man turned to face his victims, and Max watched with relief as both bodies reared up onto their knees, facing away with their hands behind them, heads bowed to the floor.

 _He had them kneel before executing them,_ she realized. _This is so screwed up._

Moments later, ( _earlier_ , Max reminded herself) bullets leapt from both mother and son's heads, climbing back into the housing of the man's weapon. Max's worry grew as her headache began to pound louder and louder, but she pressed onward, demanding that the man turn around and _leave_. She couldn't exit the rewind now, she realized. She was standing in his field of vision, and she did not trust her reflexes against those of a trained killer. Max ground her teeth as she witnessed the man standing behind the kneeling figures for some time, giving some sort of speech. _What the hell could he be saying to them?_

Finally, Max reached the beginning of his words and she breathed a sigh of relief when he walked backwards and out the door, while the mother and child seated themselves on the couch. Moments later the headache grew to be too much: veins and blood pierced her vision and Max felt her control slip, letting reality resume its natural course. She took a moment to get her bearings. She was standing behind the wife and kid, both of whom were facing away and watching a program on the television. Neither seemed to notice her presence yet. Stifling a groan, she raised a hand to her nose, wiping away the steady stream of blood that had formed. Silently, she turned around to face the front door and gingerly prepared herself for what she knew would happen next. She gripped Peter's gun with both hands, and raised it. She cursed her nervousness as the gun shook in her trembling hands.

 _Home stretch, Max. Don't drop the ball now. Let's get this right on the first try... I've been pushing myself way too hard today. I need to save my rewind as much as possible. Who knows how much I'll need to save Chloe._

A part of Max still couldn't believe what she was about to do. A man was going to appear in that doorway, and she was going to shoot him. Max knew hesitation would mean her own death-there was no doubt in her mind that the man would shoot her on instinct. Her only advantage was that his gun wasn't drawn. She took in a slow breath, vainly trying to calm herself.

"Mom, who's that?" Max heard behind her.

 _Great. Like this couldn't get more messed up._

Max heard Peter's wife emit a small gasp of surprise. A moment later the front door opened, revealing Max's target: the man she had come to kill. For a long, painful second, their eyes met, and both realized what was going to happen next. _How odd_ , Max thought. _It's like, he accepts this._ The man was smiling as Max pulled the trigger, sending a bullet sailing into the left side of his abdomen. The man grunted, keeling over, and fell to the floor. His body convulsed a few times before coming to a rest.

Behind her, Peter's family began to scream.

"Mommy! She just shot Uncle Ryan!" The kid yelled, tugging at his mom as he buried his face into her sweater.

Dazed, Max turned around and made eye contact with Mrs. Schmidt. A part of Max's mind recognized how she must look to them. A short, unassuming girl, clothes splashed with dried blood, holding a gun, in the middle of their living room. Who apparently just murdered a "family friend."

"Please don't hurt us," the woman plead while gripping her son tightly to her chest. "You can have whatever you want. Just, please, just don't hurt my son."

Max stumbled backward a little, still shocked at what she just did. Who she now was. _I am a murderer. I shot a man, in cold blood._ Standing became difficult. She felt the weight of her problems crush her shoulders, and she crumpled to the floor, sitting on her knees with the gun in her lap. She heard Peter's wife stand up, move somewhere. Probably to the telephone? _Shit_ , Max thought. _It's gonna be another minute or so until Peter gets here. Poor guy is probably freaking so hard right now._

"Brenda," Max managed to say without looking up. "I'm not here to hurt you. Peter will be here in a minute."

Though her attention was still focused on the floor in front of her, Max could tell Brenda had taken pause at her words. "You-you know Peter?" she asked quietly.

"Just, please. You're not in danger. Not anymore."

The next minute was probably the most awkward of Max's entire eighteen years life. She just sat, unwilling to face Peter's family. Unwilling to face herself. The son's muffled sobs filled the room as all parties remained frozen in place. _I'm a killer_ , she thought over, and over again.

" _Brenda?"_ Peter shouted, bursting into the house with frantic fury and almost stumbling on "Uncle Ryan's" body. He paused to survey the situation.

"Oh thank god," he cried, running to his family and crushing them both in a tight bear hug.

"Honey, this young woman, she, she killed Ryan!" Max heard Brenda explain, barely able to control the panic in her voice.

"Sssh, sssh," Peter consoled. "It's okay. Ryan is not our friend. He was _never_ our friend. This young woman-Max-she just saved our family. But there's no time to explain. We need to go. Now. Our lives are in serious danger." Peter released his family and strode over to Max, who was still in a fugue state on the floor. He calmly took the gun from her lap and re-engaged its safety before restoring it to his hip holster. Max stayed where she was, mind now completely numb. She saw Peter snapping his fingers in front of her impatiently. "Max. Come on, girl. Don't you dare shut down on me. We have to go rescue Chloe, remember? Your annoying girlfriend?"

The sound of Chloe's name jolted Max back to reality. _Chloe. Oh, god, Chloe. That's right. We've saved the family. Now we save Chloe._

Max allowed Peter to hoist her to her feet, and leaned on him slightly as they all made their way out to the driveway. _We're coming, Chloe. Just please,_ please _be okay. She has to be okay. She has to._

* * *

 _This is not okay_ , Chloe grumbled to herself. For over two hours now her captors had been trying to reach both Max and Peter, but apparently they had both gone dark. _Good_ , she thought. _Don't let them contact you, Max. They'll only use me against you..._

The three men had, mercifully, left Chloe to her own devices. She sat cross-legged on the beg, playing with her thumbs in bored, repetitive motions. The two underlings entertained themselves with some idiotic TV program, barking in laughter like deranged hyenas. Their superior-the older, more serious man-spent his time glued to his laptop, occasionally calling someone on the phone to yell obscenities at them. Every so often Pigfucker would give Chloe a lingering eye, and make an exaggerated kissing motion with his lips if she met his gaze.

 _So. Fucking. Gross. If Max finds us, I hope you both die a dozen times. Once just isn't good enough for these human pile of feces. Ugh. What I wouldn't give for a damn cigarette right now_.

The hours had given Chloe plenty of time to contemplate how all this might end. At first she was hopeful, but as the minutes stretched by her thoughts grew more and more bleak, slowly converging back to her mental state on the cliff side, just last Friday. _Max should run. Get far, far away from here. As long as she's okay, I don't care what happens to me. Maybe she'll be able to start a new life, free from my maelstrom of shit._

Chloe knew Max being hurt, or suffering, was truly the only unacceptable outcome. _Wow, way to go, me. Finally getting over my own selfishness._ She reflected on the past week, when Max disclosed her power. _God, I didn't even think of how it might affect her at the time. I was just so eager play. To use her. Because everything's about Chloe fucking Price. Woe is me._ Chloe had to bite back a surge of guilt as she remembered how she exploded at Max after discovering Rachel's affair with Frank. _And she didn't even bat an eyelash. Came running the moment I asked. I seriously do not deserve her._

She closed her eyes and conjured the memory of Max's head nestled into her shoulder. The faint smell of her shampoo, the almost indecipherable movement of her chest as she breathed her small, cute little breaths. That look of pure adoration and wonder in her eyes when they woke up beside one another. _I fucking love you, Max Caulfield..._ Despite her best efforts, a tear trickled down her face.

"Awww, does our little punk princess have an emo streak?" Pigfucker chortled. Chloe cursed herself as she felt her cheeks growing red with embarrassment and anger.

"You're gonna want to save those tears, sweetie. Trust us, you're gonna need 'em for later!" Kittycock emphasized.

"Seriously, Kevin," Pigfucker asked his boss. "What's it matter if we have ourselves a little sample right now, huh? We'll be gentle. No visible bruising. Swear it! Besides, I'd like to take a turn before we start removing parts."

Kevin's eyes slowly rose from his laptop screen, giving both his henchmen a stern look. After a few seconds, they both cooled their heels, and returned their attention to the TV.

"Fucking spoilsport..." Pigfucker complained under his breath.

After a few minutes, Kevin looked at his watch with an exaggerated but deliberate motion. "Time's up," he said. Chloe curled her legs up closer to her chest, squeezing them tightly, as she felt all eyes in the room descend on her.

* * *

Peter had wasted no time after the horror show that had become his home. The first order of business was getting his family somewhere safe. Fortunately Peter was a "man with a plan," and had already considered something decently similar to their current scenario. His wife and kid were confused, angry, and worried, but Peter had so far kept his word to Max: after dropping his family off at a safe, undisclosed location, the two had hit the road again, this time heading north to claim a hidden cache of equipment he had planted some months ago.

Riding shotgun, Max looked over to observe Peter. _Despite everything, I'm glad we became allies,_ Max thought. _Seeing him mourn his family, and then how happy he was to find them alive... I feel like I did something good. Even with the cost._

Max suddenly realized she hadn't checked her phone, at all, since leaving her house this morning. Her worry grew to panic as she looked for it everywhere, but couldn't find it.

"Looking for this?" Peter asked, holding up her phone with his free hand.

"Yes!" Max practically shouted, leaning over to snag it from his hand. But Peter motioned the phone away, out of Max's reach.

"You can have it back. I took it earlier, because I wasn't sure. About you, and your abilities. But now-now I have a plan."

Max scrunched her face a bit, annoyed that Peter had taken such liberties with her personal belongings. "Phone. Now." she commanded. Peter smiled a little, and then placed it into her outstretched palm. "You're going to see a bunch of missed calls from Chloe. It'll be Prescott's men. Don't answer them just yet."

"They've been _calling_ us?!" Max cried. "What the actual _fuck_ , Peter? They could be... they could be hurting her!" Max felt her stomach convulse, tightening and wrestling at the thought of what those men might do.

"Unlikely," Peter asserted.

" _Unlikely?_ Sorry Peter, that's not good enough! I have to make sure she's okay!" Max unlocked the phone, and moved her fingers to hit the button to call Chloe back.

"Just _wait_ a second, will you? Like I _said_ , I have a _plan_. Now that I understand how your power works."

Max took a breath and tried to calm herself. "Okay. Lay it on me."

" _Thank_ you. Now. You're going to call Chloe back. You're going to ask them to put her on the phone, so you can verify she's okay. The moment you hear her voice, ask if she knows where she is. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't say anything, as they will threaten her beforehand not to. These people are fucking barbarians, and their threats hit home. Besides, if even if she ignored the consequences, they would just pack up and move somewhere else. But she knows how your power works, right? If she _does_ know where she is, she can tell us, and you can immediately rewind the call. Before they have a chance to hurt her. Make sense?"

"She'd better not be hurt, Peter," Max grumbled. _Okay Max. You can do this. Just figure out where she is, and then rewind before they hurt her._

Max was about to make the call when the phone buzzed in her grip, causing her to jump slightly in her seat. She had received an image text from Chloe. The image showed a hand. Chloe's hand, Max recognized instantly. It was being held in place, and a pair of garden snips were wrapped around her index finger. The message text read: "call within one minute."

"Peter," Max said with forcefully. "Stop the car."

* * *

"Gaaah! She fucking _bit_ me," Pigfucker bellowed. Chloe smirked a proud grin at the results of her small victory. She was actually able to relieve the man of the lower part of his right earlobe. She spat the flesh to the carpeted floor of their motel room. Pigfucker raised his hand in retaliation, stopped only by Kevin's stern glare.

"This is fucked," he grumbled, taking his leave to the bathroom in search of disinfectant.

"You," Kevin ordered Kittycock. "Do it."

Chloe's heart began to race-she knew she was out of time. Shit was about to get real, and not in a fun way. She felt the goon grab her arm, pressing her hand flat against the nightstand. With his other hand, he grabbed... Chloe gulped as she recognized the tool, and where this was going. She had seen enough Tarantino movies to figure it out instantly. Even though she knew it would be useless, she tried to struggle anyway. Her efforts only seemed to bemuse the much larger, stronger man holding her hand in place.

Chloe felt her breathing become erratic, her mind panicking as she felt the cold steel wrap around her finger. The blades didn't even feel that sharp. She struggled to hold the tears in, but this was getting too dark, too fast. Even if Max rewound, or used a photo, it wouldn't change one simple fact: she was going to learn what it felt like to lose a finger. _Max... fuck, please... I'm fucking scared Max!_

Holding Chloe's phone up close, Kevin snapped a picture and then looked Chloe directly in the eye. "You'd better hope your little friend calls us back in under a minute. Because after that, you start losing digits. Don't worry, we'll make sure Maxine gets the full album. Oh, and if she does call, don't even _think_ about trying to tell her where we are. You'll lose more than your fingers, and we'll just have to move. It's annoying for all parties involved."

The room fell silent when Chloe's phone began to ring. Kevin looked at the screen and flashed Chloe a smile, turning the phone so she could see it. An image of Max, looking innocent and happy, stared back at her. _Oh god, Max._ Chloe was so incredibly relieved that she was calling, but on the other hand, where would this lead? _There's no fucking way she's getting hurt. Or falling into their hands. I'd rather die._

* * *

Max counted the rings, one after the other, her leg nervously bouncing. Peter had pulled over to the highway's shoulder and had closed his eyes, resting his head against the chair. Finally, someone answered. Max wasn't shocked to hear a man's voice on the other end of the line. "Maxine Caulfield, I presume?" the voice asked.

"Where's Chloe," Max demanded. "She'd better be okay. Put her on, _right now_."

The man chuckled softly. "Now, now. Manners, Ms. Caulfield. But of course. Chloe is alive and well." Max could hear some shuffling, and then finally, at long last, the sound of Chloe's voice. "Max?" She sounded frightened, unsure. Scared. But still very much Chloe.

 _Oh thank god,_ Max thought as she visibly relaxed into her seat. _Now. Peter's plan... better make this direct, and quick._

"Chloe, I'm about to rewind. You need to tell me exactly where you are."

There was a pause, and Max got her answer. "Granite Inn, highway ninety-tw-" Chloe's voice became shrill. Max executed the rewind.

Max resumed time shortly after receiving the haunting text. "They're at the Granite Inn, off highway ninety-two."

Peter formed a slow grin as he put the car into gear and pulled back onto the highway. Turning his head, he said "Jesus. What I wouldn't give for that ability. The possibilities are endless." Shaking his head, he continued "Anyway, you should call them back. Agree to whatever terms they have."

Max nodded, still a bit shaken at hearing Chloe scream. Even if she took it back. _I'm going to make them pay_ , she found herself thinking. _Nobody hurts Chloe. She's suffered enough already. Too much._ This time, the call went much more smoothly. Max agreed to their terms without argument: they were to head promptly to a warehouse just outside Portland, where Peter was to hand Max over to Prescott's men. Max must be blindfolded, or they would execute Chloe without hesitation. Once Max was in custody, they would release Chloe. Peter would also walk.

Peter scoffed at the promises. "There's no way they would let me _walk_. And I guarantee you: the moment they think they have you locked down, Chloe is dead. Or worse. These guys don't like lose ends."

Nodding, Max focused her attention back on the road. The one caveat was that they didn't have enough time. Chloe's kidnappers gave them one hour to get to the warehouse. The hotel was at least two hours away. If they were going to make it there, before something happened to Chloe, they would have to speed like demons. Which brought with it its own risks.

Max considered asking Peter if they should just call the cops. After all, they knew where Chloe was now. The local police department could get their quicker. But what might happen? Max shivered at the image of Chloe getting killed in a shootout. Max concluded that it was best to risk the schedule, and deal with this herself.

"Peter," Max asked as she saw the speedometer push one hundred MPH. "If I disappear from this seat, drop your speed, and pick me up down the road. Okay?"

It took Peter a second, but he seemed to understand, giving Max a brisk nod of comprehension.

 _What I wouldn't give to be able to bring larger items with me. Like, a car,_ Max found herself wishing. _That would be nice. Could literally do this trip in "no time." Good one, Max._ Shifting slightly, Max tried to get work herself into a more comfortable position in the seat. But nothing felt right. Even though she knew, intellectually, they were on the fastest track to Chloe, Max couldn't help this feeling of restlessness.

Then there was the problem of what to do when they got there. Would she have to kill again? Max noticed Peter taking the dead assassin's gun as they left his house. There were probably more arms at Peter's stash, but there was no time for that now. Max brought out her phone again to see what other messages she had. Several from her parents. _Holy shit, that's right! Mom and dad must be worried sick about now. It's been almost all day since we left._

"Peter, do you think my parents are safe?"

Peter nodded. "Our orders had nothing to do with them. Even though things seem to have changed, I doubt Prescott would try for them. He's a businessman first and foremost. He only kills when absolutely necessary. Or to make a point... like with my family."

"He tried to kill your family to _make a point?"_

"Prescott keeps his men in line with an iron first, Max. I'm probably the first to go rogue... well, ever. I... needed to be made an example of."

Max gave Peter a sad look before returning the conversation to her parents. "So I shouldn't tell them to pack up? Take a vacation?"

Peter chuckled. "No, I think they'll be fine. Just stay dark until we get this sorted out, one way or another. I can't see this stretching on for much longer."

* * *

Chloe pouted while she sat cross-legged on the bed. She was relieved beyond measure that she still had all her fingers. But was everything going to be okay? The way Max simply agreed to all their demands... There had to be something more going on here. She had to trust that Max used her rewind, and was currently en route. There's no way Max would turn herself in. Right?

Pigfucker returned from his trip to the bathroom, his ear covered in gauze. He shot Chloe an angry look, which she returned with all her mock confidence she could bluster. "You're going to pay for that, little girl," the man growled while pointing to his injury. "I'm going to fucking enjoy taking you apart. Tell you what. We'll even film it, so your shrimp girlfriend can enjoy the experience while Prescott decides what to do with her. We can put it on repeat, so she can get off on it. We'll show that little dyke how to _really_ treat a woman."

"Fuck you," was all Chloe could think to reply. She was out of steam, out of ideas, out of will. This whole day had sucked so hard. Breakfast with the Caulfields seemed like ages ago. She stifled a laugh at remembering how concerned they had been about fucking _school_. Now there was nothing to do but wait. Either Max and Peter would come to the rescue, or Max would discard this reality altogether. Either one was fine by her. The memories of the past few hours weren't ones she was thrilled about having to carry with her the rest of her years. If Max wanted to take them back, that would be more than acceptable.

* * *

"So do you think Mark Jefferson was working for Prescott?" Max asked. They had decided to spend the drive sharing information. Max was relating last week's investigation into Rachel Amber and the Dark Room. Peter wasn't aware of any of it, which didn't surprise him.

 _Still_ , he thought. _Prescott's not into that sort of shit. At least, I don't think. I doubt he knew about this Dark Room. And I'll bet everything that's happened since is just him covering his ass. Probably plans to pin all the blame on his dead son._

"I doubt it, Max," Peter replied. "My guess is this: Jefferson threatened to testify against Sean for a more lenient sentence. Sean offered his help and bailed Jefferson out. Probably had to grease a judge in the process. Anyway, I'll bet my life that Jefferson is more or less Sean's captive now. Once Sean's confident Jefferson is of no further use, Jefferson will decide that this world is too much, and kick the bucket." Peter surrounded that last bit with air quotes.

"You think Sean is going to kill Jefferson?"

"And make it look like a suicide, yes. Once that's done, and you and Chloe are out of the picture, there'll be nothing left to directly link Sean to what Jefferson and Nathan were doing in that storm bunker. Sure, the DA might try to press charges, but I doubt he'll be able to win a case against Prescott with no evidence and no testimony."

"Fuck," Max surmised, looking off into space.

"Yeah. _Fuck_ is about right," Peter agreed.

After a short interlude of silence, Max approached a topic that would only matter after rescuing Chloe. "Peter, what's the game plan for Sean? I always knew the man had power and influence, but not... not anything at this scale. I mean, this guy is one doomsday device away from being a fully-realized Bond villain. Can he be stopped?"

Peter smiled to himself. "Ever since I tried to quit, more than a year ago, I've been forming a contingency plan. In case things ever went FUBAR. Which, in case you haven't noticed, they have. So yes, I believe there's a way. Never had the assets," he paused, giving Max a look, "to execute on it though. That's changed. I think we can take him on, Max."

Max started to nod, and then proceeded to simply _disappear_ from her seat.

"Fuck," Peter shouted in surprise to the now empty cabin of the SUV. Despite having just seen it happen multiple times now, experiencing Max's powers up close and personal was always unsettling. Remembering Max's plan, he slowed the vehicle to the speed limit, and continued down the stretch of highway. Right on queue, he passed a hidden patrol vehicle as his police scanner went off.

A minute or so later, he caught sight of Max standing by the road, looking grumpy. It was raining, after all. He pulled over and she climbed back in. "I hope that's the last time we do that," she complained. "Today I learned officers do _not_ like it when you step out the vehicle without permission."

Peter chuckled, his mind still reeling from just how impossibly useful Max's powers were. _This girl could own the world_ , he mused, watching Max as she did her best to dry herself off. _And instead she's probably just going to take pictures. Sigh. What a waste._

* * *

With fewer than four minutes to spare, Peter's vehicle pulled up alongside the motel, remaining well out of sight from any of the room windows. He turned to Max, who had just finished taking another selfie with her ancient toy camera.

"Really?" he asked, slightly bemused, pointing at the Polaroid as Max slipped it into her bag.

"A sorceress must have her rituals," Max replied mysteriously as she stepped out of the car. She felt... giddy. Excited. Anxious. She was moments away from Chloe; she could feel it. In a few short minutes Max could hold her, breathe in her scent. Take a break from this godforsaken monster of a day and just relax her arms. Max didn't even care if she fell back into a routine of angst-ridden guilt about the storm. _Holy shit_ , she thought. _It's been hours since I've even_ thought _about the storm. Will it even bother me, after this? It should. I hope it should? What the hell does it mean if it doesn't? Does that make me a bad person?_

Meeting around the front of the hood, Peter explained his plan to Max. "Okay, listen closely. I don't know what we're up against, so I'm going to need you to help me scout. I can already tell what room they're in-"

"What, the one with the lights on?" Max interrupted. Max had quickly noticed that despite the blinking "No Vacancy" sign, the hotel had only one car in its lot and only one room showed signs of life. Its curtains were drawn, obscuring the occupants within.

"Astute as ever, Ms. Caulfield. Now, let's go pay our friends a visit. I'm going to size up the situation, then you're going to use your ability to bring me up to speed. Then we storm them. Got it?" He asked, holding out a gun, beckoning Max to take it. _For you, Chloe? Anything_. Max took the gun.

Max nodded her head and without further discussion they started towards the secluded motel, which was located smack dab in the middle of a forest, just off the highway. No other businesses or housings were in sight. It was an open air style construction: a parking lot bordered on two sides by single-story row of apartment units and a small management office. Max thought the whole place seemed dingy-the kind a serial killer might take his latest prey. She hung nervously behind Peter, who had assumed a tactical stance. Silently, they crept up to the unit in question. Peter pressed his ear to the door, while Max leaned against the exterior wall to his left, heart thumping. She knew they only had a minute or so left. From within they heard a TV, and faint sounds of arguing.

Without any further fanfare, Peter kicked the door in. For a brief moment, the world froze still. Peter just stood there, taking in the occupants of the room, which Max couldn't see from her position. Without turning, Peter lifted his hand to Max's face and held up three fingers. Moments later the air was filled with the cacophony of gunfire, Peter's body lurching violently and crumbling to the ground like a rag doll. Max rewound until the door shut.

"Three men," Max explained. Peter smiled in acknowledgement. "I'm gonna need your help, Max," he asked.

Again, he busted the door in with a swift and confident kick to the doorknob. Peter fired his gun, landing a shot on one of the henchmen, but immediately found himself struck by return fire. Max ducked low, and rushed into the room. She barely had time to register the scene: a large man stumbling towards the back of the room, gun in one hand and the other clutching his upper shoulder from Peter's shot. Between the pair of beds, another man held Chloe in place with a knife to her neck and a gun in his free hand, pointed towards Peter. The third, grim, older man, was in the process of drawing a switchblade with a curiously calm, almost methodical, expression. His eyes lit up when he saw Max. Max rewound until the door shut.

The room erupted with shouts as Max lurched herself into a dive towards the restrooms in the back of the apartment. She could hear Chloe screaming her name with a tone that rolled up panic, worry, excitement, and hope. All eyes in the room fell on Max as Peter kicked the door in once more. Instantly, the man in the back keeled over from Peter's shot. The older, more "business looking" gentleman, followed in suite a second later, taking a bullet in his head. Max watched in horror as the third man drew his weapon to Chloe's throat, and opened it with a swift and forceful motion. Max took careful aim at the man, who proceeded to throw Chloe onto the bed, a pool of blood forming around her neck and seeping into the covers. Max rewound until the door shut.

Upon exiting the rewind, Max didn't hesitate. She pulled the trigger and, miraculously, the bullet found its new home in the head of the man holding Chloe. Simultaneously, the door busted in. With fluid precision Peter took down the goon next to Max, and half a moment later shot the older, more onerous looking man, who Max guessed was the person she spoke to on the phone. He gave Max an odd smile as he collapsed to the floor.

A dead calm filled the room, as Max, Chloe, and Peter all stood stunned at how much had transpired over so little time. And then Max felt it. A throbbing thud in her side-slowly growing, morphing into a hideous, all consuming flame. Looking down, she saw a small hilt protruding out from her abdomen. She looked up at Chloe, her face contorting in disbelief and anguish. Max heard Chloe shriek her name as she fell to the floor, suddenly lacking the strength to maintain an upright posture. Max's energy felt sapped, thoughts became cloudy. Chloe's face monopolized her vision as the everything slowly faded to black.


	6. On Cooldown

_Huh? Where am I?_

Max felt the question reverberate in her head as consciousness sluggishly reassembled itself. _I feel... weird. My head's all floaty. It's nice... though... mmm..._

In that moment, all Max knew was that she was warm and on a bed of some kind. It was comfortable. Like, _really_ comfortable. Max couldn't help but giggle a little at just how damn _comfortable_ these sheets were against her... bare arms? And her clothes felt weird too. Much too lose. Everything felt hazy, like she was still in a dream.

Reluctantly, Max forced opened her eyes and realized that she was in a hospital room. The lights were dimmed and she could tell from the lack of illumination through the windows that night had fallen. She noticed a blue orb situated on the bed, next to her torso. _Chloe_ , Max thought as her vision gained focus. _Oh god, Chloe. That's right. Is she okay? Did they hurt her?_

The urge to hop out of bed and embrace Chloe with all her strength became suddenly all-encompassing, but her arms felt like dead weights. _Wowsers, I am weak right now,_ she noticed. _Just the thought of moving a muscle is making me crazy nauseous._ So instead, Max relaxed into the bed, and watched Chloe sleep, observing her body move slowly up and down in steady rhythm. Max didn't know if it was their victory, or the drugs she was presumably on, or a combination of both, but in that moment she felt on top of the world. Invincible.

As she lay in the bed, Max reviewed her last few memories. Seeing Peter get shot over and over. Witnessing Chloe, jerking violent spasms on the motel bed, bleeding out from a cut throat. _Another horrible keepsake for the Caulfield Vault._ _But I have to move past that. She's here, now. With me. Alive. That's all that matters. I have to believe that._

Max observed that her room, while private, was a rather plain affair. No larger than the size of her dorm at Blackwell, it boasted the bed, a few chairs, a few pieces of complicated-looking medical equipment, and a TV, which was currently off. Those tacky hospital posters, the ones reminding you how to wash your hands, or to give an anatomy lesson to a child, adorned the walls. Max began to wonder what, exactly, happened to her. The wicked smile of that older man in the motel room flashed into her mind. _He had a knife. Did he stab me?_

Carefully, Max willed her arm muscles into motion, taking the movement as slowly as she could. It felt weird, like her own muscles were foreign to her. A quick peek under the sheets revealed a tight bandage around her lower abdomen. _Holy shit. Now I truly am "hardcore."_ _At least Chloe won't be able to give me_ any _more crap about that. Still though. Worst. Achievement. Ever._

Max let the covers come back to rest over her and stared up at the ceiling. _I wonder how much time has passed? Are we safe here? We must be... I don't think Peter would let stay here if it wasn't. Where is he, anyway? Playing guard? And where is "here?"_

Max started a yawn and instantly regretted it. Sharp pain pierced through the drug induced haze as her stomach muscles tensed. _Oooow. Note to self, don't be sleepy._

Happy, and at peace, Max shut her eyes. _Well,_ _despite sporting a new hole in my body, this is nice. Especially after the shit storm that was... yesterday? I hope too much time hasn't passed. But Chloe is safe, and by my side. She must've been so freaked_ , Max worried with a twinge of guilt. _I never wanted to put her through that. The last thing she needs right now is another dead loved one..._

Max knew she should try and go back to sleep but she quickly accepted that such a prospect was impossible without at least _some_ communication with Chloe. Mustering the strength to again raise her hand, she reached outward and gave Chloe's hair a weak tug.

"Mmmph," Chloe muttered, rustling in her chair uncomfortably. "Stooop it..."

"Chloe," Max whispered.

On a dime Chloe's head snapped up, meeting Max's eyes instantly. "Holy shit, you're awake!" she exclaimed in a hushed shout, carefully placing her hands on Max's shoulders, as if Max was a porcelain doll that would crack if handled without care.

Max coughed, wincing at the pain the involuntary movement caused. She gave Chloe her best smile. "Sorry. I guess that was a little longer than twenty minutes..."

Chloe buckled over a little, laughing, while shedding a tear at the same time. Max felt Chloe's grip on her shoulders tighten as Chloe leaned her head towards hers.

"You little brat," she teased. "You had me worried there, you know."

"You're the one who got her ass kidnapped, dork," Max replied as she butted her forehead against Chloe's.

"And you were my night in shining armor," she replied matter-of-factually. "Seriously Max, you had no idea how bad ass you were. I still get goosebumps thinking about it."

Max smirked in response, looking down to her mid section. "And now I've got a badge of honor to prove it..."

Chloe's face fell an octave at the mention of Max's wound. "Peter said if he was half a second faster-"

"Doesn't matter, Chloe. I'm here, you're here, bad guys are dead. Right?"

"Can confirm," Chloe acknowledged, removing her hands from Max's shoulders to fold them across her chest. "You guys took _all_ the names."

Max thought back to their breach into the motel room, and all the attempts it took to get right. But from Chloe's perspective, she must have seemed a perfect ninja, appearing from the shadows with gun drawn. _I guess I was probably pretty cool. God. What am I thinking? I just shot, like, two people, in a single day. So fucked up._

Shrugging away the thought, Max allowed herself a small giggle, immediately wincing at the pain. Chloe was giving her that _look_ again. Full of awe, hope, reverence, and love. A long but comfortable silence filled the air between them as they held eye contact, communicating the thoughts and feelings words couldn't. But finally, Max had had enough. "So you going to kiss me or what, ya dingus?" she beckoned.

Chloe was never one to back down from a dare.

* * *

The next day, Max found herself surrounded on all sides. Peter stood to her right, arms folded and with a stern expression on his face. Chloe sat on a chair to her left, elbows on the bed and head resting on her fists, her lips curved into a goopy smile. Max's attention was focused on the doctor doctor standing over her.

"You are very lucky, Ms. Caulfield," the doctor explained. "The knife didn't hit any major organs, so no surgical procedures were necessary. We're expecting you to make a full recovery, provided you stay off your feet for a while and get plenty of rest."

With a nod, the doctor left the room, finally giving Max an opportunity to ask all the questions that had been boiling in her brain. Chloe didn't give much of an opportunity last night. Not that Max minded.

"So what _happened?"_ Max asked as the door swung shut. "The suspense is literally killing me," she continued dryly.

"Well," Peter began. "Thanks to you, we were able to put a sizable dent in Prescott's force projection."

"Excuse me?" Max asked while looking at Chloe, who shrugged.

"I'm referring to the people you and I, ah, _retired_ from Mr. Prescott's employment. Specifically, the man you stopped from killing my family, and the man who put a knife in you. They were both key to Mr. Prescott's security operations. Losing them is a significant blow to his ability to move offensively. He will need to spend some time... licking his wounds, so to speak."

"So let's strike while the iron's hot!" Chloe suggested with gusto.

"Normally I'd agree. But our trump card here," he explained while motioning to Max, "is currently down for the count, and will remain so for at least a week."

Max made uncomfortable motions on the bed. She still didn't like being referred to in conversation as if she wasn't there. "You mean I'm bedridden for a whole _week?"_ she complained.

"Oh, heavens," Chloe said with rolled eyes and mocking voice. "Seven days of nothing but lying in bed. What _ever_ shall we do?"

"You're lucky I don't have a pillow in my hands right now," Max grumbled. "Or the strength to smack your face with it."

Chloe grinned, bringing her hands towards Max while making tickling motions with her fingers. Max let out a playful yelp and tried to squirm her body away, immediately regretting the movement.

Peter coughed, trying to bring the conversation back on course. " _As I was saying_ ," he emphasized, "we need to wait until Max can at the very least walk again. And Max, after they discharge you from the hospital today, we're going to take you back home."

Max gulped at the thought of facing her parents. _They're going to be so pissed_ , she realized. _I come back from the dead,_ _disappear for a day and a half, then come home with a stabbing wound. They won't let me set foot outside the house again._

"Do they know?" Max asked.

"Yes, Chloe called them and they drove out yesterday to check in on you. I kept my distance, while Chloe here gave them a believable story. They'll be here soon to pick you up."

 _Whew. At least I won't have to worry about that._

"Tweaked out meth addicts in the woods," Chloe said flippantly while shaking her head. "They'll get you every time."

"I suppose that's a bit more believable than a murder-for-hire knife-wielding hitman trying to kill your daughter," Max reasoned.

"We always _were_ at our best when in cahoots against our parents," Chloe reminisced.

Max smiled and closed her eyes to rest as Chloe grabbed her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. The Vicodin had begun to wear off a bit and Max could feel the piercing sensation in her side starting increase in volume. She enjoyed the freedom from the pain the drugs provided, but she hated how they made her head cloudy. _I'll probably wind up with half my prescription unused. Something tells me Chloe won't mind._

 _I can't wait to just get back to my own bed, even if I do have to face the wrath of my parents. It sounds like we're safe from Prescott's evil empire for a least a little while, so spending a week in bed, forcing Chloe to cater to my every whim, sounds pretty damn sweet right about now. This girl owes me, and I'm_ totally _going to make her "pay the Price." Ugh. I can even make_ myself _cringe. Pity she can't drive us around anymore..._

"Chloe, do you know what happened to your wheels?" Max asked.

Chloe locked her hands together into a fist against her chest, as if in prayer. "An untimely death, but she served me well."

"I'm sorry, Chloe. I know you loved that truck."

"Prescott was able to clean up the mess before the police even knew what happened," Peter explained. "We have no idea where the truck is now. Probably in a scrap shop, being broken down."

"I hope she gets reincarnated into something nice, like a Camry," Max mused.

"Okay, you did not just say that," Chloe menaced, moving her hands to resume the threat of tickle torture.

* * *

"So give me the play-by-play already," Max insisted.

The Caulfields would be arriving soon so Peter had taken his leave. Max felt bad for him; she knew he probably would rather go be with his family than baby sit two ruckus teenagers. She implored him to do so earlier but he adamantly rejected the idea.

"Negative, Maxine," he had refused. "As I said, Prescott isn't likely to come after you now, but you can't ever be to sure. So until you're back to one hundred percent, I'll be sticking around to keep an eye on you and Chloe. Don't worry, I'll make myself invisible. Besides, we still have a deal, remember?"

Max did remember, and reaffirmed her commitment. One way or another, Prescott had to go down. He had done too much, put her and Chloe through hell. She would never feel safe knowing both Sean and Mark were on the lose.

After Peter retreated to the proverbial shadows, Max found herself in a hauntingly familiar situation with Chloe: one of them was in a wheel chair, the other standing alongside. Chloe had wheeled Max out to the entrance of the hospital where there they now waited for Ryan.

"It was so insane, Max. I hope those fuckers got more than one death," Chloe said bitterly.

"I did have to use up a few continues," Max replied, looking up at Chloe. An image of Chloe's throat opening flashed through her mind. _Nevermore,_ she thought, willing it away.

"Well, after you and double-oh seven wasted the minions, that _Kevin_ fucker threw a knife into your side. Slick son of a bitch; I didn't even see it happen. Peter put him down a second later. But it was to late."

Chloe paused to ruffle Max's hair, placing a tender kiss on her head. "I can't ever let that happen again, Max. God, when you fell over, and I saw that blade in you..."

"It's okay, Chloe," Max consoled.

" _Okay?_ Max, you're in a god damn wheel chair. That is not _okay_. God. The whole time I was held captive, I was so scared, but the only thing that truly frightened me was the thought of you getting hurt, Max. And then..." Chloe paused to maintain her voice, which had started to waver. "My worst nightmare came true. Just, from here on out, Peter and I take all the risks, alright? You can always rewind. But you can't rewind yourself."

"Duly noted, minion," Max agreed. With a mischievous tone, she continued, "I look forward to moving my pawns into battle."

Chloe scoffed. "We're gonna have to talk benefits soon. Does this gig come with dental? And I want low deductibles. Or is high the good one? Fuck."

Max chuckled and looked up at the sky, which was burning red from the low hanging sun on the horizon. "There wouldn't be a crime in the world this team couldn't solve," she mused, taking Chloe's hand into her own.

"I'll admit it, we are kind of bad ass."

Ryan pulled into the loading zone shortly afterwards. A brief but heartfelt reunion later, Max was strapped into the backseat, with Chloe sitting in the middle, holding Max steady with her arms. Chloe caught several intrigued glances from Ryan in the rear-view mirror. He tried to make some conversation, even a few probing questions, but Max was already getting hit by a new round of painkillers and fell into a comfortable stupor against Chloe's shoulder. Chloe was pretty tired herself; she had only gotten a few hours sleep over the whole ordeal.

Chloe knew this wasn't over yet, and that there might be worse trials to come. Yet in that moment, she felt a wave of true contentment wash over her. Despite the still-present heart wrenching pain of losing Joyce, Rachel, and so many others, the simple joy of knowing that Max was going to be okay eclipsed all else.

* * *

Max felt Chloe's body tense as she let out a loud yawn while the movie's credits rolled. They just completed an activity that had come to define the past few days of their life: watching Netflix and Crunchyroll on Ryan's hand-me-down laptop. Chloe had been flippantly dismissive of rekindling her interest in anime, but after some prodding from Max, they had voraciously consumed several shows. Max was thrilled to see her lifelong friend show more signs of the girl with whom she grew up.

The first few nights Chloe took the guest bedroom, as Max's bed was too small and she needed to lie completely flat because of her injury. This arrangement also seemed to sit well with Max's parents, who hadn't said anything overt about what _they_ thought about Chloe being a romantic partner to their daughter. Or what sleeping arrangements they would be comfortable with under the roof of their own house.

Max had ground her teeth in frustration at the separation-she knew it was slightly unhealthy, but after everything that happened an insidious germ had taken root in her mind; a constant desire to make sure Chloe was alive and well. She had been sternly reprimanded by her parents yesterday for stumbling down the hall in the middle of the night to check the guest bedroom and verify that Chloe was in fact still present. Max only got about half way before keeling over. Her mother said she was lucky she didn't open any stitches. In retrospect, Max agreed it was a pretty stupid move.

Up until now Chloe had been Max's attentive assistant, taking her anywhere and everywhere she needed to go throughout the household. That being said, the pair had largely stuck to Max's room, with Chloe venturing out in search of snacks and drinks when required.

Today, five days after coming home from the hospital, was the first day she had been able to walk confidently without assistance, although it was only for a few steps. The doctors had recommended against any further exertion. Max's newfound agility also meant it was safe for Chloe to crowd into the bed with her. Until now Chloe had simply lazed in a not-so-comfortable looking chair next to Max. Chloe wasted no moments when Max told her the good news.

"Begone, foul instrument of back-ache," Chloe had postured as she kicked the chair aside. It still hurt a bit when Chloe snuggled in, lifting Max's back and leaning her onto Chloe's side. Max found it a small price to pay. She wiggled closer, draping a leg over Chloe's, and resting half her midsection against Chloe's side, with her head on Chloe's shoulder.

Chloe streamed a movie on the laptop, which Max mostly ignored, choosing instead to smother her head as far as it would go between Chloe's shoulders and neck. As they lay in silence, listening to the movie's credits theme, Max suspected Chloe's zealous stranglehold on her well-being had precipitated a strange air between Chloe and her parents, or at the very least, her mother. The conversations she'd overheard had been short and terse, and Vanessa seemed to occasionally outright ignore Chloe. Max couldn't tell if it was just the drugs screwing with her perception, making her paranoid, so she hadn't brought it up. But it felt likely that Vanessa was jealous. Chloe didn't leave much for her to do in terms of care for her daughter.

"Chloe?" Max mumbled.

"Shitty flick, I know. Next time you choose," Chloe sighed, shutting the laptop.

Max shook her head slowly, wiggling closer. "We haven't talked much about... how you're doing. With Arcadia Bay, I mean."

"Could say the same for you, Max."

"Touché. I just don't want do bury, or make light of, all the other crazy shit that happened. You know, before Sean made his move."

"It's cool, Max. I'm... I'm fine. Well, no, that's a fucking lie. I still miss her, Max. Rachel, I mean. She had her issues, and obviously there was a lot about her life I didn't know, but she was a good soul. She was there for me when no one else was. I just hope, wherever she is now, that she's happy. Not that I'm a big believer in the afterlife stuff."

"Me too, Chloe," Max sighed as she closed her eyes again.

"And you, super-Max?"

 _I... honestly don't know_ , Max realized. _It's been days since I've thought seriously about the storm. Coming so close to losing Chloe again, and then fighting so hard to save her, just flushed away all the trauma from Arcadia Bay. Does that make me a bad person? Part of me feels guilty that I'm already starting to move past it. That soon it might not bother me anymore. On the other hand, who am I really helping with my self-masochism? What's important now is that I live life to its fullest. For Chloe._

Max ran her hand through Chloe's hair, stopping at the back to pull her face in close. "It still hurt, Chloe. But it pales in comparison to how much I love you."

Chloe choked a little at Max's proclamation before slowly bringing their lips together. Careful not to squeeze Max too tightly, she gripped her partner, communicating without words the intensity of her desire to love, and be loved.

* * *

The following day was the first Max could eat at the table. She and Chloe ate a simple simple breakfast prepared by Ryan, while Vanessa drank her coffee and perused the morning news on her tablet.

"So I think this brave soul might be up to the challenge of a walk today," Max stated excitedly. The past few days alone with Chloe had been truly wonderful, but she was eager to get out doors again and breath some fresh air.

"Are you sure that's wise, honey?" Vanessa asked as she put down her mug. "Didn't the doctors say you had at least another day?"

"Yeah, but my recovery has been faster than expected. Thanks to these wonderful genes you two gave me," Max flattered.

"I, too, would like to thank you for your daughter's wonderful genes," Chloe smirked, bumping Max in her arm.

Ryan and Vanessa shared another glance. Ryan made a few false starts at asking a question before Vanessa took the reigns. "Max, is there something you want to tell us about you and Chloe?"

Max knew this question was coming, but nevertheless she blushed at having to talk about it directly to her parents. Although she had always been close to them (moreso her father than her mother) they had never really had any direct talk about relationships or sex. Max had figured it out on her own, and her parents seemed more than okay with relinquishing their responsibilities on the topic.

Chloe seemed to be the only occupant of the table amused by the new topic. Retaining her grin from earlier, she returned Max's bump. "I dunno, Max. Something you want to tell them?"

Max shot Chloe a slightly annoyed look at making light of the situation. _Like a band aid, better to just get this over with_ , she thought. "Chloe and I are, uh, you know. Seeing each other." Max cursed herself at growing a touch red as she said it. _Come on, Caulfield. You have nothing to be embarrassed about._

Her parents nodded in unison, sharing a quick concerned glance. "Honey, could we talk to you alone, for a moment? If you don't mind, Chloe,"

Chloe grunted a little. _She obviously minds_ , Max thought. _And what the hell? I just tell them that this is my partner and the first thing they ask is for her to leave? Bad parents, no biscuit!_

Sensing Max's discomfort, Chloe pushed back her chair from the table and stood up. "It's cool, Max. I need to grab a smoke anyway. I'll be out front, alright?" Max grabbed Chloe's hand for a quick squeeze as she made her departure.

Once Chloe was out the front door, Max turned to her parents. "This had better be good, guys," she grumbled.

"Max, we're..." Ryan paused his statement, looking to Vanessa for help.

"... Worried, Max," her mother finished. "So much has happened to you over so little time, and it's a little disturbing just how reliant you two seem on each other. Have you spent _any_ time apart since getting back home?"

Max wanted to shout _"Yes,"_ thinking back to their ordeal several days ago. But she held her tongue. "Mom, Chloe and I are adults now. We can make our own decisions about how to spent our time, and who to spend it with."

"We know that, honey, but we still worry. We're concerned that Chloe isn't... isn't the best influence for you. She smokes, dropped out of school, and judging from her appearance, seems to run with a rough crowd."

"Her _crowd_ all died, back in Arcadia Bay. Or did you forget?" Max was surprised at the amount of venom she found in her retort.

That shut both her parents up. "Listen, guys, I appreciate you, and I love you, but you have to understand something. Chloe and I are, and will always be, an item. Okay? This isn't a fling, or some transient behavior."

Max caught her mother in the middle of an eye roll during her heartfelt explanation. In anger, she slammed a fast on the table and carefully brought herself to her feet. "It's fine if you don't want to believe, or support me. Whatever. But I will _not_ tolerate, or forgive, you blaming Chloe for the shitty things that've happened in her life. Everyone here at this table shares in that blame."

"Max..." Ryan began, stepping towards his daughter.

Max raised her palm to her dad in a halting gesture as she ungracefully made her way to the door and out onto the front patio.

* * *

Chloe could instantly tell something was bothering Max. She adamantly pressed Chloe to go on a walk around the neighborhood after storming out the front door. Well, her best attempt at storming, anyway. It was actually a little cute to see her a bit angry, yet still hindered by her injury.

"So you gonna bring your girlfriend up to speed here, or just pout?" Chloe asked as they crawled at a snail's pace down the sidewalk.

"Do I lose points for just pouting?"

"Depends on what it is. Gotta say, I was only a little curious as to what that was all about. Now I'm about ready to shake it out of ya."

"My parents are concerned about how obsessive we're getting over each other."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "What, they've never seen two young people in love?"

Max scoffed. "You'd think they'd, you know, like, _remember_ what it was like, at least?"

Chloe noticed Max appeared a bit winded and pulled them both down to a bench alongside a small park that spanned the course of the block. A small jungle gym provided some children with entertainment as their parents' eyes remained glued to cell phones. On the opposite side a homeless-looking man was throwing crumbs of bread to a small but excited flock of pigeons.

"Well you can tell your mom not to worry, we're not going to go full Heavenly Creatures on her ass," Chloe replied.

"I think our window on that has already passed. And no, Chloe, we're not going to bash my mom's head in with a rock."

"I hear you Max. I think I've seen enough death for one lifetime."

"Might have to disappoint you there, if we're going to get our revenge on."

Chloe leaned back, throwing an arm around Max and pulling her close. "God, is it weird that I'm finding it hard to even care about that now? For so many months, I was so angry... and lost. All I could think about was finding Rachel. But now that you're back in my life, and we're together, I just want everything to be okay, you know? Just put those whole shitty experience in the past, and move on our our lives. Together."

"It's not that simple, though. I don't think we'll ever be truly out of danger while Prescott thinks we might be a threat. As much as I hate to say it, we need to get back to the Thunderdome."

Chloe turned her head to face Max directly before speaking. "Yeah, I know we're only on a breather here. Mad Max must ride again."

"Only so long as it's with you, Chloe."

* * *

The subsequent return to her house made Max feel a bit queasy. _God, I don't want to fight with my parents about_ anything. _But this is seriously none of their business. I_ am _an adult, and am capable of making my_ own _choices now, even if they do happen to be mistakes. Which Chloe is not._

But the Caulfields remained civil, and didn't say a word when Max and Chloe took up spots on the living room couch, cuddled together closely. Chloe turned on the TV to catch up on the latest Arcadia Bay news. Coverage had died down a bit over the past couple days. No new theories had been put forward, and the pundits had run dry of things to discuss. At this point, Arcadia Bay had become simply yet another natural disaster in the public mind.

However, tonight a new development had gripped the headlines. The newscaster explained that in a perhaps not so shocking turn of events, the district attorney will not be pursuing charges against Mark Jefferson. Instead, at the lead of Jefferson himself, the blame had fallen on the late Nathan Prescott. Sean Prescott, his father, disavowed his son's actions, explaining that they brought great shame to the Prescott family name and heritage. To help with the investigation, Sean provided the police with a wealth of evidence that showcased his son's increasingly erratic behavior.

Throughout the broadcast, Max's parents had joined to watch. Chloe and Max remained stunned, flummoxed and confused about how what seemed such a sure thing could have slipped through the hands of justice so easily.

"This can't stand, Max," Chloe whispered.

Shifting her position a bit against Chloe, Max closed her eyes. "I know."

They both felt Chloe's phone buzz. On it screen was a single text from Peter.

 **Peter:** it's time


	7. One Step Forward

It was the dead of night when Max shook Chloe awake, having herself only just woken to a preset alarm on her phone. Peter had asked them to meet him at one in the morning, a task that implicated a stealth exit from the Caulfield residence. True to her usual self Chloe grumbled in her slumber, not completely waking up, but instead reaffirmed her grip around Max. The temptation to just blow off the whole idea became momentarily overwhelming, with the warmth of Chloe's presence radiating into Max's back, her head resting comfortably under Chloe's chin.

But the reality of their predicament forced Max to soldier on, so she twisted around to give Chloe a quick kiss. _If anything will wake her up..._

The plan worked, but backfired a bit when Chloe refused to let it end, instead pulling Max in, influencing a new round of "fuck it" thoughts to roll through her mind. Half a minute later Max regained her resolve and pulled away. Chloe emitted a quiet whimpering noise.

"Come on, Chloe. We gotta go meet Peter."

Chloe rolled her eyes and let out a slow, exasperated sigh. "Fiiine," she acknowledged under her breath. The pair had remained dressed with the foreknowledge that their sleep would be cut short. So after Max successfully tugged Chloe out of bed, they made a silent exit from Max's room. Their path illuminated by the light of their cell phones, they crept down the hallway towards the front door. _Curse these old homes and their marketable hardwood floors,_ Max complained to herself as she stepped carefully to avoid any squeaking noises. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation with her parents, especially at this hour. Her late night sojourn to check up on Chloe a few days ago proved that Vanessa was a light sleeper.

The Caulfields had seemed almost relieved, last night, at the news report that Jefferson was not in fact to blame for the kidnappings. _I guess it's easier to swallow that it was just some fucked up kid than a teacher._ But the turn of events had only strengthened Max's resolve. Her experience in the Dark Room with Mark had steeled her conviction-there was no way she was going to allow that _murderer_ to get away with what he'd done. Plus, if Peter was wrong and he didn't kill Mark, then there was the fact that left to his own devices Mark would likely continue his... passion. Max knew she could never live with herself knowing that he was out there, finding other "subjects" to rebuild his portfolio.

And then there was the matter of Sean Prescott. The man who had tried to have them killed, repeatedly. Who was responsible for so many more horrible memories of Chloe dying. Max had thought the few instances during the week in Arcadia Bay were hard enough. But now? Chloe's presence seemed like a walking miracle, a stalwart defiance against a cruel and impossible universe hellbent on her death.

Although Peter (and Mark Jefferson himself, Max recollected) had claimed Sean did not know about the Dark Room, Max had her doubts. It seemed unlikely that someone as powerful, resourceful, and detail oriented as Sean would be outwitted by a photography teacher. Though anything was possible. Mark had seemed confident that he had them all played. _He certainly played me_ , Max thought bitterly. _I suppose we'll know soon enough._

They picked up the pace once outside and on the sidewalk. Max brightened at the fact that she was now able to walk like a normal person. The pain had all but died to a sullen ache in her side, emanating from the now permanent scar. _My own personal war wound. The cost I paid to keep Chloe safe. Totally worth it._ Peter was parked down the street in a brand new SUV. _Seriously, how is this guy affording all these new toys?_ Max wondered. Max heard the doors click as they approached, and Chloe ran forward to open the backseat door for Max. Together, they climbed in, bunching up on one side to remain close. Chloe put a protective arm around Max as they settled into position.

"You two seem well," Peter observed.

"Back in action," Max replied with a grin.

"Good. We're going to need that enthusiasm."

"Peter," Max started, "earlier you mentioned a plan for dealing with Prescott."

"Promise not to disappear on me this time?"

"Only if it's crazy boring."

Peter chuckled and realigned himself in the driver's chair to get a better viewing angle on his passengers. "Listen up then. Here's what we need to do..."

* * *

Max blinked when Peter finished, a bit stunned at the audacity of his proposal. Chloe, however, seemed more than a little psyched. Max surmised it was because she got all the fun jobs. The plan was simple: bust into Sean's estate and steal his secret ledger. Peter had seen Sean writing in it and knew exactly where it was kept. What worried Max was the was the means by which Peter planned to accomplish this.

"Seriously? C4? We're going to _literally_ blast our way in?" Max asked incredulously.

"Well we sure as hell aren't getting in through the front gate. You _might_ be able to get through with your rewind, but it's too great a risk. The gate is heavily guarded. And it's manned by an actual security company, that is, people with real lives and families. People I'd rather not kill. Yes, I know, we could murder them and then sneak you past, where you could then rewind, but I think creating our own entrance is the safest route."

Max nodded. If they could get this done without killing anyone, that would be more than ideal.

"Plus, this way we get to blow shit up," Chloe added, her eyes wide with excited anticipation. _Yeah, makes sense that Chloe would be all over this idea._

"Our limiting factors here are Max's maximum rewind length, and the number of times she can use it. Chloe filled me in about what happens when you overuse your powers. We can't have you taking a nap half way through this operation, so I'd like to keep the required uses of your power to a minimum."

Max nodded again in agreement. Chloe leaned forward a bit and tried to recap the plan. "So you're going to make us a few new entrances, and then I taxi wonder woman here into position?"

"That will be the easy part," Peter affirmed. "Getting Max safely out, with the ledger, will be where things become variable. The moment you disappear from the car, Max, we'll prep you a new exit on the perimeter wall. All you'll need to do is make it there safely, and then rewind. If everything goes well, you'll walk with the ledger, Sean and his security forces none the wiser. I'll move to the other side of the estate and cause a distraction. You rendezvous with Chloe, and we meet up later."

"That means, after I get the ledger, I'll need to cross the grounds between the mansion and the wall, right?"

"Yes. We'll get you suited up with armor, don't worry. But it will be the riskiest part. You might be able to move like a ghost, but all it takes is one stray bullet. And every one of the guards on that wall is a marksman."

"So basically what we're saying, is that I'm once again going to miss all the cool shit," Chloe grumbled, realizing that if everything goes according to plan, Max will disappear from the car and then reappear outside the wall, ledger in hand.

"Correct. Very astute, Chloe."

"Now you're thinking with portals," Max teased.

"I'll accept this so long as we get cake afterwards."

Peter's eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Don't worry, stupid game reference," Max explained.

"Right. Okay, before we can do any of this, we need to pay an old friend of mine a visit to stock up on supplies. Then we get straight to work. I'd leave you here, but starting a few hours ago I've been getting some suspicious radio chatter. I don't think we're alone anymore, so I'd like to keep you two close until all this is done."

Max and Chloe exchanged a worried look.

"Purely precautionary. Besides, you've been wanting to get out of the house, right, Max?"

 _I feel bad ditching my parents again,_ Max thought as she shrunk into her seat a little. _Yeah, they acted like jerks yesterday, but they're still my family. And I'm sure they'll come around on Chloe. Once they see how much she means to me, and that this isn't just some "phase."_

"Let's see some countryside," Max agreed.

* * *

Peter's friend, who he explained was someone from his military days, lived out on Whidbey Island-about a two hour drive north of Seattle. Peter didn't want to get stuck at a ferry crossing so they were taking the long route around: through the town of Mt. Vernon and over Deception Pass. Max had to threaten use of her powers to make Peter stop for some shots at the bridge. She had heard Deception Pass provided some excellent photo opportunities, but was never able to convince her parents to make the drive. She wasn't going to pass it up now, even if they were on a schedule. Peter had pulled into the small parking lot just prior to the bridge and was twiddling his thumbs restlessly on the steering wheel. Max wasted no time climbing from the vehicle, dragging Chloe along with her.

"Okay, this is pretty fucking cool," Chloe admitted. She had expressed doubt that a bridge way out in the boonies could be a point of interest, but the magnificent sight of the mainland connected to the island via a bridge standing one hundred and eighty feet above sea level made her a believer. A gust of wind caught Chloe's hair and she nearly lost her beanie, leaning forward over the railing to catch it before the hat was swept away to sea. Camera drawn, Max snapped the moment with the press of a button.

Max shivered slightly from the wind chill, drawing her arms around herself after returning the camera to its bag. Chloe noticed, and wrapped Max up in her arms, facing them both towards the Puget Sound at large, a massive body of water stretching out as far as the eye could see.

"After this is over," Max began, "we are so going on a road trip. Let's being annoying tourists all up and down the west coast."

"Gonna need wheels for that, sista. Mine are in a better place now, remember?"

"Thoughts and prayers," Max reminisced as she put her arms over Chloe's, hugging them tighter around her waist. "We'll figure something out. After all this bullshit, I don't think I'm above abusing my powers to help fund a well deserved vacation."

"I _like_ this new Max," Chloe replied with a grin. "I always knew you had a hidden bad-girl streak, itching to be released."

"Within reason, Chloe. I don't want to hurt anyone, or screw anybody over."

"Even if they deserve it? Like Sean?"

"No, Chloe, we are not going to blackmail a Prescott. Remember what happened the last time you tried that?"

"Point taken."

"Hey!" they heard Peter call from the car. He was leaning out the rolled down window, looking annoyed. "You two love birds done yet? We _do_ have a schedule to keep here. My contact abhors tardiness."

Chloe rolled her eyes with a sigh. "Jesus dude, don't get your panties in a knot. We're coming, we're coming."

* * *

 _Okay, this is a bit creepy,_ Max thought while sleuthing through the unlit concrete World War I era bunkers at Fort Casey. Peter had dropped them off just prior to meeting with his contact. Apparently his friend was a touch jumpy and didn't like surprises, which included unknown faces. Max had spotted the park on a map and seeing as it was close to Peter's meet, asked him to drop her and Chloe off. Upon seeing that they could explore the now-antiquated ammunition storage rooms, Chloe ran off ahead, disappearing into the dark.

Some light at the far end of the oppressing room caught her eye, and Max started towards a metallic ladder leading up onto the promenade. She only made it halfway there before a loud "BOO!" nearly made her drop her phone.

"Jesus Chloe, not cool. I think I've got enough going on without having to worry about a heart attack."

"Don't be a baby, Max. It was funny and you know it. Now come on, I wanna see those guns!" Chloe dashed off to the ladder and quickly disappeared into the sunlight beaming down through the hole. Following in suit, Max found herself surrounded by even more concrete, but this time out in the open air. A massive 10-inch disappearing gun towered over her, the top of which just barely rose above the fort's siding. Max realized the whole fort was built into a large hill, the other side of which gave view to the Puget Sound. Chloe had wasted no time-she was already climbing on top the gun, in clear violation of the guard rails, straddling it and waving her beanie around in the air.

"Max! Quick, get a picture!"

 _Eventually her rule breaking is going to get us into real trouble. But not today, I guess_. Max drew her camera and caught a picture of Chloe from the back, one arm gripping a notch on the gun, and the other outstretched wide and holding her beanie. She was leaning back, while exclaiming "Whooo hooo!" at the top of her lungs.

 _How fitting,_ Max mused. _I'm so glad she can still express herself like this. As shitty as the past week has been, I feel like a cloud has lifted from our minds. Like, we can finally be free from the storm. I was starting to think I would never be able to come to terms with my decision... what right did I have to do that? But it wasn't even a decision, was it? I had to save her. Even if the universe demanded a toll in blood. Will we be okay, though? A year from now? Ten? The only thing I know for sure is that even if she outgrows me, gets sick of my shit, or whatever, I won't regret it. I will never regret saving you, Chloe._

"Max, you there?" Max's mind jerked back to reality when she found Chloe's face inches from hers, a curious expression wondering why Max had gone unresponsive.

"Sorry, Chloe. Just another one of my patented Caulfield Zoneout sessions."

"Seriously, you need to cut it with that shit Max. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Just throw up your legs on a couch, Dr. Price will ail your woes."

Max moved in for a hug, taking a long breath before responding. "I know. And okay. I _will_ need to see your accreditation though," she teased. "Don't want to get my therapy from some quack with a degree from an online university."

Chloe motioned them towards another ladder that lead up onto the top of the hillside. They walked towards it slowly, arms around each other. "Please, girl. You know I got my education from the hard-as-fuck streets of Arcadia Bay."

Chloe launched herself up the ladder, stopping at the top to turn around and offer Max a hand, who had to take the climb much more slowly because of her injury. Max almost froze half way, looking up to see Chloe's face with sunlight radiating around it, creating perfect contrast between her deep blue eyes and the sky above. Smiling, Max let Chloe lift her the rest of the way, falling into another hug as they stood on top of the fort, which stretched for some distance both north and south. Before them, to their west, the concrete stopped and grass began. Only a few yards more and the ground gave way to a steep cliff, with a beach and seashore hundreds of feet below.

"The information booths said this fort, along with a few others, formed a trap for ships trying to get into the Puget Sound," Max said aimlessly.

"Yeah? Did they ever see any action?"

"Nah, airplanes and submarines got invented. This whole fort was pretty much obsolete from the moment it was constructed."

Chloe scoffed. "Sad. I'll bet those big ass guns behind us would've been pretty cool in a real battle."

"We're not going to be like that, right?" Max cursed herself for letting the question slip.

"... say again?" Chloe sounded honestly confused, with a bit of worry in her voice. Max looked to the ground, feeling a bit shamed, and hurt all at the same time.

"I guess, it's what I was thinking about earlier. That even if you do get sick of me, I'll never regret my decision to save your life, Chloe."

"There's your first problem. Max. How many times do I need to say it? Just tell me, so I can get them all out of the way right now. I. Love. You. Maxine. Caulfield. Nothing is going to change that, okay? Now, seriously, get _over_ yourself. You're not responsible for everything that happened. You're just a person-an amazing person-that acts, and reacts, just like everyone else. You make decisions: good ones, bad ones, and ones where the line isn't so clear. But you make them. And you move forward."

"You're right. You are a good therapist," Max accepted, leading into Chloe's side as they watched a Washington State ferry begin its voyage from the nearby terminal to its destination of Port Townsend.

"Just give me one of those bed chairs and a notebook," Chloe joked. "I think I found my true calling."

"Dr. Price _does_ have a nice ring to it," Max considered.

* * *

The Prescott Estate: a ten acre plot of land surrounded on all sounds by a length of fencing that more closely resembled the walls of a prison than a home. At over fifteen feet high, neither she nor Chloe was going to be scaling them. Peter insisted they leave that work to him. He explained that the wall is under twenty four seven surveillance and is patrolled regularly by the security contractors. With the explosives obtained from his hook up on Whidbey Island, they went over the plan one last time: Peter would plant C4 on the outer wall, scale it with his commando gear (Chloe's eyes lit up when she saw the real-life grappling hook gun) and rush his way to the east wing of the building, where additional explosives would provide Max and Chloe with a freshly remodeled entrance into the mansion.

"There's no way I'll be able to make it to the mansion without attracting attention. It's likely I'll come under fire, so I'll need you to be on point about rewinding if I'm unable to accomplish the objective," Peter explained. The three of them stood between the two cars, one of which Peter purchased on their trip down, and had assigned Chloe the driver of. They were parked about half a mile away from the estate proper, in a small pull-out. The Mansion itself was about half an hour outside Arcadia Bay, secluded in the wilderness and accessible by only a private road that branched off from the highway. Peter would make his approach on foot, while Chloe and Max would charge in after the explosives went off.

"Once the entrances are created, don't worry about me. I don't expect I'll last long. Just get Max inside the mansion, and she'll take it from there." Chloe and Max nodded in silent agreement. They listened to Peter give his final instructions as Chloe checked the straps and bindings for Max's new set of literal body armor. When she was finished, Chloe took a step back to observe her work.

"You look cute in synthetic fibers," she grinned. Max felt very out of sorts. She understood the necessity, but the weight was more cumbersome than she had anticipated. And the helmet almost obscured her vision completely. But Peter had insisted on it. She was covered, head to toe, with black kevlar and other such materials. She felt like an overdressed umpire at a ball game.

"Now, after I trigger the C4," Peter continued, "all hell is going to break loose, okay? It's a given your vehicle _will_ come under fire as you cross the courtyard. Just... get Max inside, Chloe. It's the only thing that matters."

"Roger roger," Chloe chirped. "I've always wanted to get my GTA on."

And so began the long and tedious wait for the series of loud eruptions that would queue them into action. Max sat nervously beside Chloe, who was doing her best to keep herself calm.

"It's kinda weird to think about, you know," Chloe muttered.

"Chloe?" Max asked, jolted out of her own internal worries.

"Just, that, none of this is technically _real_. At least, not for me. And Peter. And everyone else."

 _Never really thought about it like that before_ , Max realized. _I guess the minutes passing, right now, are sort of a "dead thread" of reality?_

"Y-yeah. But I'll remember," Max promised. "For the both of us."

"You better, Caulfield. Be sure to tell me how heroically bad ass I'm sure I'll be."

Their conversation was interrupted by two ear-piercingly loud bangs, causing both girls to tense involuntarily in their seats. Without further words, Chloe hit the ignition and stepped on the gas. The trip down the private road was a short one when going at sixty MPH. Chloe took a hard turn to the left when they started getting close to the guarded checkpoint, and they began the off road experience, cruising bumpily along the circumference of the perimeter. Finally, they saw the smoke and rubble that was Peter's handiwork. Chloe hit the brakes, flinging the car into a sharp turn through the opening.

True to Peter's promise, all hell did indeed break lose. Less than a second into the courtyard, the rear window glass burst apart, and Max curled up into a ball on her seat as their car came under fire from the panicked guards. Chloe steeled her resolve and zeroed in her focus on the smoke coming out the side of the impressive looking mansion. As they approached Max noticed Peter, dead once again, flattened up against the mansion's exterior wall. He held a detonator in his hands and wore a smile on his face.

A second later Chloe had driven the car through the opening and crashed the vehicle into an interior wall. Max took a deep breath as a blissful silence settled over them. Turning, Max grabbed Chloe's arm and smashed their lips together.

"I'll see you on the flip side," Chloe said when their faces parted.

Max raised her hand, smiling, and staring into Chloe's eyes. "Dork."

* * *

"Max!?" Chloe shouted as the girl vanished into thin air.

"Don't worry, that means we're on phase two," Peter said, trying to calm a worried Chloe.

"Holy shit though. Did you see that? She just, like, _disappeared_."

"Yes, one of her many talents," Peter sighed as he grabbed the short-wave radio.

"Max, status."

A nervous few seconds passed as both Peter and Chloe leaned in towards the device, hoping to hear Max's voice.

Finally, the device crackled. "Y-yeah. Sorry. I'm in. Everything went okay."

"Then let's not waste time. You know what to do, Max," Peter replied.

* * *

Max found herself in a large hallway stretching for some distance in either direction. Large, beautifully crafted stain glass windows lined the exterior side, while the interior wall presented a host of doors separated apart by larger-than-life hand painted portraits depicting the Prescott family lineage. High above, crystal chandeliers decorated the ceiling.

 _Okay. So this is the east wing. I'd better check that map Peter gave me._ Before embarking on their respective tasks, Peter had given Max a back-of-the envelope drawing of the Prescott mansion's layout. It described how the east wing contained mostly studies, libraries, and drawing rooms. The north wing seemed to be for maintenance and servants quarters. While the west wing contained bedrooms for family and guests.

 _Right, so if Peter placed those explosives correctly, then three doors down from here should be Prescott's study. Let's do this, Max. You got this._

Heart thumping in her chest, Max began the crawl down the hallway, careful to avoid making any sounds. Mercifully it seemed no one was around, it being the dead of night. When she found the door to Sean's study it was of course locked. Max plastered a bit of explosive onto the lock itself like Peter had shown her, and stepped back to detonate it. Once inside, Max rewound and took in her surroundings.

The walls were lined with bookshelves, covering every topic from art to business. Sean appeared to be quite the learned man, or at least, wanted his guests to think he was. Max noted the stark lack of any sort of paintings or figurines. Any and all decoration was absent: the room was pristine and clear, and communicated only business. On the far end of the room was Sean's desk, just like Peter had promised. A few chairs, lower in height than the one behind the desk, were positioned around the front.

 _Okay Max, time to get your snoop on._ It occurred to Max that it had actually been quite some time since she'd invaded another's personal space, reading their notes and files in an effort to solve a mystery. She knew it was a bit wrong, but she nevertheless felt back in her element. _If only Chloe could be here with me..._

A note on Prescott's desk drew her eyes.

Attached you will find a series of notes and letters sent by my late son, Nathan Prescott. I trust these will help you in your investigation into the sad and unfortunate events my son took part in. Please recognize, that with my cooperation in this matter, I will no tolerate any further investigations into my personal dealings. Consider this your final warning.

 _Holy shit, this letter is addressed to the district attorney. Prescott really does that this kind of clout, to threaten him so blatantly?_ Max snapped a photo of the paper with her camera, and began the search for Prescott's ledger. All Peter knew was that it was kept somewhere in the desk. All drawers, of course, were locked. Screwdriver in hand, Max began busting the locks open one by one. After the fourth drawer she began to worry. _What if it's not here? Prescott already suspects I have super natural abilities. What if he guessed we might try this?_

Her concerns were dashed to the wind after opening the fifth, and final, drawer. Inside was a thick book with a red cover and no title or labels of any kind. _Bingo. Plus one points to team Max and Chloe._ Max took the ledger into her possession and grabbed the radio. "Found it."

A few seconds later, Chloe's voice crackled through. "The amazing super Max strikes again. You never cease to amaze, Caulfield."

"This place is starting to creep me out. I'd like one exit, please."

"I hear you Max. We're on the move."

Max holstered the radio and took her leave of the study, rewinding again once outside to undo her damage to the desk. She started down the hall, locating a door at the far end that lead out into the courtyard. _Okay, this is it Max. I just need to ghost my way to the exit Chloe will make in the perimeter wall, then it's homeward bound._ But halfway to her destination, Max noticed a door that was slightly ajar. From within she heard a repetitious, repeating clanging noise. Metal on metal. She couldn't resist the desire to at least peep in, so she halted her progress down the hall and tipped the door open wider. Instead of a room, the door lead immediately into a set of concrete stairs descending downward.

 _Okay, creepy much. Fucking weird place for a basement. I know I should keep going, but something feels off about this. And I can just rewind to make up the time._

Without further consideration Max walked down the flight, finding a metal door to her left at the base of the stairs. The clanging noise had gotten louder. Nervously, Max slowly opened the door.

Max couldn't hold in the gasp at what she found in the middle of the bare room. Strapped to a metal chair beneath a simple hanging light, beaten and bloodied almost beyond recognition, a man was rhythmically tilting and crashing the front to legs into the floor.

Max took a step back, drawing her hand to her mouth. " _David?"_


	8. Downfall

"Oh my god, _David,_ holy shit!" Max ran into the room, which was barren except for the beaten man constrained to the chair in the center of it. A hanging lamp swung softly from the change in air pressure caused by the open door, briefly illuminating the four corners in a soft circular motion.

"M... Max?" David sputtered. His eyes appeared to be swollen shut. Max realized that not a spot on his face was without blemish, a rainbow of blue, red, and purple painting the puffy tissue. She covered the distance quickly, kneeling in front of him to try and make eye contact. "David, oh my god, we thought you were dead."

"Wh-what the hell are you doing here, Max? You need to l-leave, now! Prescott is _dangerous_." David stopped to cough, his face contorting into an even more pained expression as he spat out a bit of blood. Max could see that he was missing several teeth.

"Just hold on David," Max replied. "We're going to get you out of here."

 _I can't believe this. Holy shit. Is this what would've happened to Chloe?_ Max's stomach churned at the thought. _That will never happen_ , she told herself.

"I'm stuck here, Max," David motioned with his hands, which were bound behind the chair. Max scurried around and frowned when she saw that he was handcuffed. _Fiddlenuts!_ _These are chained around the chair. There's no way I'm going to get them off._

"Please, Max," David implored, "I don't know how you got here, but you need to save yourself, now! These people are monsters. There's no telling what they'll do to you."

Max's face grew serious and she rounded the chair again to look at David directly. "There's no way I'm leaving you here, David. Who _knows_ when they plan on killing you. I'm not taking that risk."

 _Besides, you saved me from certain_ _death,_ Max thought to herself. _It's only right that I return the favor. If I leave now, it might be days before the authorities raid this place! I can't take that risk. But even if I do get him out of these cuffs, what's the plan then? Our escape plan relies on me Houdining myself out of here. That's not going happen with David in tow..._

Max wasn't sure if it was the feeling of debt from David's rescue from Jefferson's Dark Room, or the desire to allay her guilt from the storm. But she knew she couldn't let another person die-not when she could do something about it. Especially when that someone was a part (albeit, a rocky, thorny part) of Chloe's family.

"Okay, David, listen. I'm going to go find something to help us bust you out. There's no way I'm leaving you behind, okay?"

"Max, please, just listen to me. I'm a goner. Just get _out_ of here, dammit!"

Max backed away slowly, shaking her head. "Just sit tight. I'll be back before you know it." With that, Max turned around and ascended the stairs. In the grand hallway once more, Max grabbed her radio and tried to establish contact with Chloe and Peter. "You guys there?"

"Ready and waiting, super Max," Chloe responded. "Got the explosives and everything."

Max allowed Chloe's voice to offer some comfort as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. She pressed down the talk button. "Listen, Chloe, something's come up. David's here. Here's alive. Prescott's been torturing him."

Silent static filled the air for a few seconds. At last, Chloe's voice came from the speaker. "We... we have to help him, don't we."

"Yeah... it's risky, but if we keep with the current plan, there's no guarantees Chloe. He's in bad shape. I get the feeling Sean will be... done... with him soon."

Max could hear the sigh on the other end of the radio. "I don't like it, Max. This plan is dangerous enough as is."

"I know. But, we need to at least give him a fighting chance, Chloe! I'm... I'm going to find something to undo his restraints. Then, I'll continue with the original plan. David will be on his own, but at least he'll have a fighting chance."

Another few seconds of waiting. Max imagined Chloe cursing to herself. _Poor girl... she doesn't want me to put myself in any more danger. I'm not to thrilled with the prospect either. But how could we live with ourselves, when we had the opportunity to do something right?_ The irony of her decision on the cliff side wasn't lost on Max. _But this is different... I'm not choosing between Chloe..._

The radio again crackled to life with Chloe's voice. "Max, I got a bad feeling about this. Like, fuck, I know I am the _shittiest_ person in the world for saying this but if it's between you and David I chose _you_. I don't want you putting yourself in harms way for him!" Max could hear Chloe's voice beginning to crack. "God, Max, please... just come back..."

"I _will_ , Chloe. But I need to do this. You know I do..."

Max felt terrible hearing Chloe's suppressed sobs. "God dammit, Max..."

"I'm going, Chloe. The faster I do this, the sooner I'll be standing outside that wall." Max holstered the radio again, setting it to silent. She took a breath to collect herself, chomping down the overwhelming emotions of the past few minutes. _Keep it together, Max. You can do this._

* * *

Max had thought Peter's overzealous explanation of the mansion was overkill, but now she realized that it never hurt to be prepared. She remembered Peter pointing out that the north wing contained equipment and tools, so that's where she decided to head first. _I just need something, anything, that can break the link on those cuffs holding him to that chair._

The end of the hall gave way to another, more plain corridor, with even more rooms leading off to the right and left. Less than half way down she heard voices around an upcoming corner. _Shit, better hide_.

Max steathily opened one of the doors and slipped inside, shutting it softly behind her. She pressed her ear tightly to the door, attempting to hear whatever the pair might be saying.

"... I'm just happy that we're finally going to get to snuff that fucker soon. I mean, talk about a pain in the ass."

"Right? Gotta admit though, that guy is tough as nails. Never seen someone take a beating like that and still keep his lips shut."

"Awww, sounds like someone's got a cruuuush..."

"Shove it up your ass, Simpson."

Their voices faded into intelligible muffles as they passed Max's door. _Shit, I was right! I'm running out of time! If they're going to kill David soon! Come on Max, hurry it up!_

A new fire lit under her feet, Max quickly returned to the corridor and rushed down it until she reached what she _hoped_ was the north wing of the mansion. The change in decor was a sure indicator of her success: gone was the soft glow generated by the expensive looking sconces that littered the east wing, instead replaced by harsh light of overhead florescent lamps. The red carpet gave way to a granite tile, and Max realized she was in a large kitchen. A swinging pair of double doors later, and she worked her way to what looked like a maintenance closet.

 _Eureka! A tree branch looper! That'll make short work of those metal chains._

Grinning at her victory, Max grabbed the garden tool and moved quickly to retrace her steps. _I just hope too much time hasn't passed. I hate to think it, but if I heard those men correctly, then David might be dead?_ _Fuck._ As Max worked her way back through the rooms and hallways, she mused over her power. _I tried so hard, during that week, to keep making everything right. Even in the realities I knew I was going to abandon. Is it because I believe it'll continue, even after I ditch it? Or is it just so I could live with myself? Convince myself that I'm a good person? That I did everything I could do to help, or, more likely, to alleviate my own guilt? I guess that's what the screwed up version of myself from that nightmare would think._

Max hadn't had a repeat of the nightmare experience, a gift for which she remained grateful. _It was so lucid... I didn't know dreams could_ be _like that. And I have to believe that other version of me was just my own guilt..._

Max came to a halt at the top of the stairs leading to David's cell. With a nervous gulp, she put a foot forward to begin the descent down.

"Ms. Caulfield, I presume?"

Max nearly tumbled down the stairs in surprise, instead catching herself on the doorway with both hands. The voice had come from the hallway. She turned around, and found Sean Prescott himself, looking calm and confident, arms crossed with a stern and unrelenting gaze peering into her.

 _Crapballs, it's him. Okay, keep it cool Max. You can still rewind._

"Mr. Prescott," Max replied in the most even tone she could muster.

"I see you've taken the liberty of my hospitality. If you wanted to visit, you should have just asked. But something tells me," he said, waving up and down to bring attention to Max's body armor, "you're not here for a chat."

Max arched her back, trying to look more assertive. "You're going down, Sean. We've got everything we need on you. Only a matter of time now."

Sean chuckled. "So I suppose it would be a worthless gesture to extend an offer to join my organization? We could use someone of your... talents."

"You..." Max trembled in anger at the sheer audacity of Sean's proposal. "You tried to _kill_ Chloe. You _tortured_ David. You're a monster. I would _never_ help someone like you."

"Play with fire and get burnt, Ms. Caulfield. Mark filled me in on your little adventures two weeks ago."

"You're the one who's about to experience flames, Sean," Max threatened bitterly, choosing instead to use Sean's first name. "There won't be a scrap of your empire left when we're done with it. This conversation is over."

Max lifted her hand, and watched with satisfaction as Sean backtracked down the hallway. _Man, I now I totally get what everyone means about that guy. Total fucking creep. I still got goosebumps._ She kept the rewind going until she observed the two men from the hall walk up the stairs, and out of sight. _Alright. Keys in hand, time to rescue Mr. Step Douche._

Max ended the rewind, keeling over from the headache. She felt a trickle of blood flow down her nose, a few drops hitting her lip. _Ugh. This is probably giving me brain cancer._

Before she could place a foot on the first stair, an arm wrapped tightly around her neck, cutting off her airflow with ruthless strength. Max felt her feet leave the floor as her assailant lifted her off the ground with nothing but his arm. Max panicked immediately, feeling the world swirl a bit from the blood pressure drop to her brain. _No, not like this! Rewind, dummy!_ Max feebly raised her hand, and felt the world begin to traverse backwards. Gasping, she fell to her hands and feet, struggling to catch a breath. _Shit! Too early, dumbass!_

Within moments, she felt the arm back around her neck lifting her once again off the ground. Max kicked as best she could with her legs, causing a chuckle from behind her. Thoughts became incoherent and her rewind felt a million miles away as the world slowly faded. _Chloe... I'm... I'm sorry..._

* * *

"Welcome back, Max."

 _Fuck. Not this, not... here..._

The Two Whales diner stood as it always had, just as Max remembered it. She was sitting at a booth, facing herself from across the table. With the exception of a soft melody harmonizing from the jukebox, all was quiet in the restaurant. They sat alone.

"A lot fewer people here this time, huh, _Maxine_ ," her doppelganger observed, her words laced with sarcasm.

"You're not real. None of this is real. I just need to wake up... I've got to get out! Chloe will come looking for me..."

"You sure about that? I stand by what I said last time. Sure, she's glommed onto you like a lost puppy, but fuck it Maxine, what the hell else was she going to do? You murdered her friends. Her family. It's not as if you left her a lot of options."

"That's not true," Max exclaimed, choking back a sob. "David survived!"

"Right, yes, and look at where that got him." The other Max "tisked," while shaking her head and waving a finger. "Just think of what could've been, Max. Without the cover of the storm and Nathan's death, Sean would've had a much more difficult time. _None_ of this had to happen."

Max hated herself for starting to break down, but her counterpart's words had gotten under her skin. _Is this what I really think? Is this my subconscious telling me how I really view myself?_

Collecting herself, Max put both hands on the table and leaned forward. "You don't know that. No one does, and no one ever will."

The Maxine across the table folded her arms and rolled her eyes. "Face it, Max. You're in denial. Even if you do get out of this alive, and that's a big _if_ , you can't just fucking stick your head in the sand forever. Eventually, you _are_ going to regret your decision. You're going to grow the fuck up, realize what you did was _wrong_ , and that Chloe's life just _isn't_ worth all that. I mean, Jesus, manipulative bitch that she is, at least Chloe had the moral compass to see good from evil."

Max gritted her teeth, her hands beginning to tremble with both anger and fear. _Calm down, Max. She's just trying to get you worked up._ "You're wrong," Max countered with the most dominant tone she could muster. "I don't care what happens in the future. I will _never_ regret saving Chloe." Max stood, angrily, and peered down at alternate self. "We're done here. Forever."

And with that, the diner disappeared, enveloping Max once again into a world of darkness.

* * *

When Max came to, the world remained dark. _What-what's happening? Where am I?_ Should could feel cool air against her bare arms- _Oh shit, my body armor! It's gone... Okay Max, stay calm. Don't freak out. You're blindfolded, in a chair. It's chilly... fuck. I'm in one of the Prescott cellar rooms. But they haven't hurt me... not yet, anyway._

Max fought a bit against her restraints, quickly realizing that her efforts were futile. A steady progression of footsteps approaching from behind her froze Max into place. Without a word, the presence behind her removed the blindfold.

Standing in front of her stood Sean Prescott, hands behind his back, with a grievously serious expression on his face that betrayed no sign of emotion or empathy. It took a force of will not to wilt under his gaze.

Max wanted to look over her shoulder to learn who the other person in the room was but Sean snapped his fingers, demanding her attention.

"Ms. Caulfield. A pleasure, I'm sure. I do wish we could have met under better circumstances."

Max glowered, unwilling to give Sean the respect of a greeting.

"I had my doubts about you, Maxine. Videos can be unreliable. And there could be many explanations for your inexplicable ability to neutralize my men. But your presence here is ample enough evidence. But I digress. I can see you're a woman of few words, so I'll get straight to the point," Sean began a small pace to and fro in the room, maintaining harsh and penetrating eye contact with Max. "You are going to demonstrate your abilities for me. Here, in this room. If I deem them to be worthwhile, I will consider belaying my order to kill Ms. Price. And I don't think it needs to be said that her death will not be quick."

Max's heart flunked and her knees began to shake. _No way. How could they have known? Did Chloe try to rescue me? This can't be real-this can't be happening!_

"Bullshit," Max countered, though the waver in her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

"Max. You should know by now I don't make idle threats."

"Prove it. Let me talk to her," Max ordered.

In seconds Sean traversed the room and backhanded Max across her face, sending her into a shocked stupor. In a surprisingly menacing and angry tone he yelled " _I_ make the demands. Do you understand?"

In a haze, all Max could do was nod.

"Now. I will ask again. Failure to comply will result in the removal of one of your darling punk's ears."

 _No. He has to be bluffing. And... if he's not... oh fuck. I can't "teleport" like this! I'm tied down! I couldn't prove it, even if I wanted to! If... if he's not lying... then I can rewind. But that means Chloe_ _would..._ Max bit back tears after concluding that she needed to call his bluff. _He's just trying to scare me._

Max glowered back at Sean, still reeling from the blow. "Eat shit and die, Sean."

"I was afraid you might say that." Sean snapped his fingers and the door opened, revealing a bruised Chloe, stumbling into the room at a forceful push from the guard following behind her.

 _"Chloe!_ Oh my god, Chloe!" Max couldn't help it; she was both relieved and terrified by her presence. _They hit her! Those fucking animals_ hurt _her!_ Chloe's left eye was practically swollen shut, and her arms showed signs of rough handling, red and blue marks lining their lengths. Max began to squirm, struggle, and fight against her restraints. She knew it was futile, but she had to do _something_.

"M-max?" Chloe, who was thrown to the floor beside Max, leaned her head up, and her lips formed a small smile. "You're alive..." Chloe had an almost dream like quality to her voice, as if she wasn't really all there. But she nevertheless seemed happy to see Max, even if she couldn't fully register what was happening, or how dire their situation at the moment was.

Max gasped back a cry as tears began to fall from her eyes. "I'm so sorry Chloe. I should've stuck to the plan. Oh god. I'm so sorry-" Max had to cut herself off. She knew she was beginning to ramble and she didn't want to give away anymore than necessary to their audience. _Who is that second person, anyway? He's been creeping behind me this whole time... Whatever. It doesn't matter. Chloe's alive. And with all body parts attached. God. I can't... there's no way I can watch them hurt her..._

Sean wore a comfortable smile after observing Max's violent reaction to how Chloe had been treated.

"You _monster_ ," Max spat. "You're not getting away with this. _No one_ hurts her." Max ended her tirade with a frustrated scream before settling back into the chair, struggling to control the overpowering sniffles and sobs.

"Ah, young love," Sean replied with a wistful tone. "It makes fools of us all. Now. I believe your girlfriend here owes us an ear. Mark, would you please?"

From the shadows, Mark Jefferson stepped forward, holding the tree branch looper Max had requisitioned earlier. "You'll have to forgive me," Sean continued. "I thought it would be a bit poetic to trap you in a _mental_ prison using the very tool you planned to use to free Mr. Madsen from his _physical_ prison. I may seem serious, but that doesn't mean I can't find joys in the little things."

Mr. Jefferson gave Max a smile, but remained silent as he placed his foot on Chloe's chest, holding her in place on the ground. He moved the tool into position around Chloe's left ear.

" _Wait!"_ Max found herself screaming. _I... I can't do this. God help me. I love you Chloe..._ "Just.. just _please_. Wait," Max implored. Sean raised his hand, and Jefferson's expression fell into a frown as he held the looper in place against the side of Chloe's head. Chloe seemed too out of it to understand the situation.

"Yes, Maxine? Do you have something you want to show the group?" Sean asked.

"I-I can't do it while bound to the chair."

Sean raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless nodded to Mark. Mark lowered the looper- _thank god_ , Max thought-and moved to undo Max's restraints to the chair. _Freedom!_ Max thought. _Not that it does me much good._ As she stood, Chloe started mumbling something. Trying to get her attention.

"M-max, it's shpeter. I... I sar him die... hes kilt, Max..." Chloe's words slurred together into a mess, but Max could understand the meaning. _Holy shit, they killed Peter? Fuck... that's not good. Was kind of hoping for a last minute rescue, like in the movies... I guess there's only one option. Just like with the storm... There's no way I'm letting Chloe get hurt. I choose you, Chloe. I'll always chose you._

"It's okay, Chloe. Everything is going to be alright. You have to trust me, okay? Just... I love you Chloe. I love you so much..."

Despite her obvious pain, Chloe formed a smile back at Max. "I wuv you too, Max."

Max knew it was wrong. Showing Sean what she was capable of... what she could do. And then she realized it. _Oh my god. The door-it was open less than a few minutes ago! And I'm free from that fucking chair... This... this might work..._

Deliberately, Max walked to the door and stood there to take a breath.

"I must say, this demonstration has been disappointing so far. I trust you have more to show us than a feeble attempt at opening a locked door?"

"Max always did have a tendency towards zoning out in class," Mark spoke for the first time. "Never able to maintain focus-"

"Did I give you permission to talk, _dog_?" Sean barked, his voice filling the small room with a sudden and terrifying ferocity.

Sheepishly, Mark took a step back, his shoulders slouching a bit in acquiescence.

"Now. If you're willing to cut the games," Sean resumed.

Max was indeed ready to stop with the games. Reaching out in the instinctive motion with her hand, she began her backwards march through the fourth dimension. The strenuous ebb and flow of reality, cursing at being forced against its natural tendency, began its steady bellow into Max's skull. The ache grew and grew, but Max pressed on, knowing she might only get one good shot at this. As she had learned so many times this past week, her rewind was not an infallible super power. It had its limits.

At last, the door swung open. Dropping the rewind, all parties stood stunned for a moment at Max's sudden transposition across the room. She found herself behind Chloe and her armed escort. With a grace she didn't know she had, Max grabbed the gun from the guard's holster, released the safety, and leveled it at Sean. The guard, Sean, and Mark all took a step backwards. A deafening silence filled the space, all occupants of the room bewildered at the sudden turn of tables.

"Chloe," Max motioned with her free hand. "Take my hand. Please, please Chloe."

It took Chloe a moment to understand and gain enough presence of mind to stumble to her feet. Meanwhile the guard had continued to slowly back off, as Max had alternated her target every few seconds, keeping everyone on their toes.

"Fascinating," she heard Sean whisper under his breath. He began to say more, but Max had lost interest.

She focused her attention instead on Mr. Jefferson. "You should know that Sean is planning to kill you, Mark. You're a lose end, just like us. Just like Mr. Madsen. You're a smart man, so I'm sure you already know this." Mark gripped the tree loopers tightly at her words but said nothing.

Wasting no more time, Max yanked Chloe backwards with her, exiting the room and slammed the door shut behind them. Without hesitation she slid the hefty bar lock into place, sealing Sean, Mark, and the guard within.

Max fell back against the concrete wall, observing that their way out was a familiar looking set of stairs leading upwards.

"Max?"

"Oh god, _Chloe_ ," Max cried as she swung herself into Chloe, slamming them together and squeezing as tightly as her frail arms could. Chloe still seemed to be in a state of shock, but was quickly recovering. "Max, we're... what happened? I got knocked out... and they killed Peter..."

"It's okay, Chloe. Everything's going to be okay. We've got to find David, alright? We'll bust him out, and then we can get the every cop in Oregon flooding this hell hole. Fuck it, let's get the FBI too!"

Chloe let lose a soft chuckle as she leaned into Max, letting her help carry them both up the stairs. "Maybe we can steal some swag. I always wanted one of those FBI jackets..."

* * *

The route to David was mercifully unpopulated. Max spent the entire trip worried that they might find an empty room. But luck was on their side-apparently the guards from earlier had not received an official kill order. After a heartfelt reunion Max used her newly acquired sidearm to free David from his restraints.

"God, that's fucking loud," Max complained after making the carefully placed shot.

David rose to his feet and without hesitation took Chloe into his arms, giving her a fierce hug. "Oh god, Chloe. I'm so sorry, I should've seen this coming. I should've protected you."

Chloe had been coming more and more to her senses over the past few minutes, and was now fully aware of her surroundings. Max did worry she might have a concussion, though.

"Eeeasy there step-dou-David."

David separated himself from his step-daughter, keeping his hands on her arms to take a good look at her. "God, they hurt you, Chloe. Those bastards are going to _pay_."

"About that," Max cut in. "We need to move. Especially since I just broadcasted our position to every guard in the area with that gunshot. Chloe and I locked Sean up in one of the torture rooms, but I don't think he'll stay there for long. Let's find a telephone in the house, and contact the authorities. David, do you know who we could talk to that wouldn't assume it's a prank call? I'm worried that if Chloe or I dial 911 and tell them we're being held hostage at the Prescott estate, they'll just laugh us off..."

"Don't you worry," David assured, placing a firm hand on Max's shoulder. "Just get me to a telephone. I'll take it from there."

"Also, David, take this," Max held out the gun in an outstretched hand, trying to get the weapon as far away from her as possible. _I think it's one hundred percent_ _official,_ Max thought. _Maxine Caulfield hates guns. All the guns._ David took the sidearm without hesitation, holstering it into his jeans while giving Max a thankful nod.

* * *

The debacle of the Prescott family's corruption, coercion, and influence over many aspects of local politics remained in the limelight for _weeks_ after the tense, but ultimately non-violent, stand off between the FBI (backed by the Tillamook police department's SWAT team) and Prescott's guards. It was later revealed that the Prescott's security force had orders to, under no conditions, allow law enforcement inside the grounds, warrant or no. But Peter's earlier assertion had proven correct: the guards were paid well, but they also had families to go home to-lives to live. And when confronted by a small army of APCs, heavily armored assault teams, and helicopters, the head of security made the intelligent call to stand down.

Inside, the authorities found a clusterfuck of a mess. Sean Prescott: murdered at the hands of an art teacher wielding a garden tool. Two young women and a military veteran, beaten and bruised, hiding in a secluded room. Once again national attention returned its focus to western Oregon and the disturbing events surrounding the Prescott family and the Dark Room. Within days of having access to all of Prescott's internal files, investigators quickly pieced together the puzzle and wasted little time in pressing charges against Mark Jefferson for murder, conspiracy to murder, conspiracy to kidnap, and many other counts.

The survivors who had called the police from within the mansion remained a mystery to the public. They refused any and all interviews, claiming extreme personal trauma. Several reporters tried to track them down, but found the girls impossibly difficult to actually locate. Every time the news reporters got close, they would realize they were two steps behind. After a few weeks, public interest waned and resources were reallocated to more current topics.

But the names Maxine Caulfield and Chloe Price remained in the minds of many. The survivors of Arcadia Bay. The downfall of the Prescott empire. They regained a bit of attention a few weeks later, when a civil suit was filed on behalf of Ms. Caulfield and Price against the Prescott family. Things were quickly settled out of court for an undisclosed amount.

* * *

"I'll need you signature, here, here, and... yes, here."

Chloe pursed her lips while hunkered over the paperwork. The salesman, who looked thrilled at making such a expedient sale, _a cash sale_ , licked his lips at the thought of his commission.

"And with that, the Thor Venetian M37 is yours! Congratulations! She's a real beauty. I'm sure she'll serve you and your girlfriend well for now and in the years to come! Please do review our comprehensive service plan..."

Chloe leaned back in her chair, tuning the salesman out with a smug smile on her face. _Fucking dream come true, is what that is._ _Even if it's over two hundred thousand dollars. I spare_ no expense _for my little lady._

Max had chosen to remain outside the sales office, opting to take photos of their newfound home from every angle she could find. Chloe thought back to when they received their settlement checks, and how Max's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets at how many zeros there were.

"Chloe, what are we going to _do_ with this much money?" she had asked, in an awed and humble voice.

Chloe had keeled forward coughing, a bit of beer having gone down the wrong tube upon hearing Max's outburst.

"Uh, give the world two giant middle fingers and hit the road? Max, we are _free_. And you _know_ we fucking deserve it! After that hell we went through..."

Max had slid against Chloe, holding both their checks in front of them. Chloe wrapped Max tightly with her arms, planting a kiss on her the top of her head.

Max snuggled closer and closed her eyes with her head pressed against Chloe's chest. "Looks like I don't have to worry about abusing my power for money," she whispered.

Chloe chuckled. "That's okay. I can think up _plenty_ of other ways to abuse your power," she teased.

Chloe broke free from the memory, and realized the salesman was waiting on her for something. "Oh, yeah, sure, give us all the comprehensive warranty whatevs."

The salesman looked ecstatic, taking a moment to actually clasp his hands together and lean his neck upward as if in thankful prayer.

"Well, we have several packages-"

"All."

"Excuse me?" he asked with a honest and confused expression.

Chloe placed both palms on the desk separating them and continued with a stern, confident, and forceful voice. " _All_. We'll take _all_ the warranties."

The man sputtered a little, nodding, while typing a few more things into his computer.

Chloe decided she'd had enough, and kicked back the chair to form a long stretch and yawn. Without further words she strode out the door and into the warm, eighty degree autumn weather. Max was returning from a round of RV photos from all possible exterior angles. Ever since becoming rich as fuck, Polaroid film was suddenly not such a scarce item. Chloe fully expected every square inch of wall space in the interior of their RV to be littered with photos. She looked forward to it.

"Alright, ace photographer," Chloe said smugly, dangling the keys in front of her. "You ready to get this show on the road?"

Max replied by throwing herself into Chloe's arms, planting a firm and confident kiss on her lips, which grew in intensity as Chloe gripped her girlfriend tightly, feeling the evening sun bake into her back. When they parted, Chloe stood mesmerized by the sea of Max's blue eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes then."

Max giggled, swirling around to press her back into Chloe. She coerced Chloe so that the RV was behind them and snapped a selfie of them both against the backdrop of their new home.

Sheepishly looking at the ground, Max took a step back before returning Chloe's gaze.

"You and me, Chloe," she proclaimed, words packed with heartfelt sincerity.

"Together forever," Chloe answered.

Notes: Thank you to everyone that's been reading, commenting, and kudoing! I really, truly appreciate it. I've always envisioned this as the proper send off for Max and Chloe-cruising down the pacific coast, bank accounts full, in a kick ass RV. Moreso than any other fictional relationship I've digested (and I read/watch a LOT), Max and Chloe's has felt the most authentic. The most real. So I tip my hat to them, and wish them both the best. The world is their oyster, and with Chloe's guile and Max's gumption, the stars are the limit.


End file.
